MP Chronicles
by Verkaiking
Summary: Prequel and companion piece(s) to Madam President - Regina POV
1. Where It All Begins

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEN!  
_

 _I wrote you a thing! A Madam President thing in Regina's PoV... WITH SMUT! Don't you just love me?_

 _(Dear readers, you'll need to have read at least chapter 1 of Madam President before you read this)_

* * *

This is insane.

Absolutely insane.

When she'd assumed office, Regina had vowed to stop the corruption that plagued the previous government here in Maine, and she'd gone to extreme lengths to achieve that. She'd formed her staff almost from scratch, only keeping a handful of the people from her time as Mayor of Storybrooke. Her publicist, for starters, Sidney Glass, an efficient man with incredible connections and a good eye for press management. Then there was Ursula, her chief of staff, a woman with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue, no bullshit, just the way Regina liked her team to be. There are a few others, people who have respected and believed in her from the start, people who have earned their spot as part of her entourage, and she thought she'd been doing a good job, she thought it was working, and then this happened.

Nothing shakes you more than the knowledge that everything you've done to secure an honest administration has been worthless, Regina can attest to that first-hand now. Hundreds of thousands of dollars destined for charity donations are missing, and she has no idea who took them or what for.

It's almost midnight, and she's still at the office, looking over budget reports and trying her hardest to figure out who's behind this. She should sleep, she knows that, should go to bed and get some well-earned rest, but her mind is going a mile a second, even against the wishes of her exhausted body.

A knock on the door startles her, and she finds Robin there, smiling at her tenderly. It does things to her, the way he looks at her, how he always seems to linger just so he can watch over her. He's a friend, a good friend, but over these last two months, it feels different to her, it feels… more.

It's been almost two years to the day she lost her husband, two hellish years where Roland and Robin have been her saving grace. She thought she'd closed her heart, locked it away in some vault, never to be used again, but that little persistent kid somehow got in under the wire, and so did his father.

"Isn't it a little late to be plotting world domination?" he offers as he walks in, and Regina laughs, her exasperation easing for a moment.

"The tough life of an evil queen… plotting well into the night," she jokes back, donning the nickname the press has so graciously been addressing her with for the past few years.

"Ah, best put the staff on alert, then," Robin says with a wink, making her laugh again, and then his gentle gaze finds her face and he smiles at her.

"It's nice to see you laughing again," he tells her, "it's been a while since you've done it so freely."

"I haven't had much reason to laugh lately," she admits.

"Oh, I don't know, that tie Sidney wore to work last Friday was quite hilarious."

"The green one with the turtles? I gave that to him as a joke last Christmas because Ursula said he looked like a turtle. It's ridiculous!" she finds herself giggling then, "I don't know why he wears it."

"Because he has a crush on you, of course," Robin says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I highly doubt that, I'm not the kind of woman men crush on," she says matter-of-factly.

"If that's what you think, then you don't see yourself very clearly, Regina," he counters then, and there's a conviction in his tone that tugs at her heartstrings, the moment growing in its intensity as he stares and stares at her.

"So… why are you working so late?" he changes the subject as he walks closer, pausing in front of her desk while she remains standing behind it, bent over the piles of paperwork she's been looking over for the past four hours.

"I need to figure this out," she tells him, and her tone sounds desperate, she can tell, but he's seen her at her worst, she feels no need to hide from him now.

"You're going to give yourself a stroke," he says, ever concerned for her well-being.

"Robin, we're missing four hundred thousand dollars, I can't just let that go."

"Yes you can, at least until tomorrow when they've checked all the recent bank errands. I still think it was probably all deposited to the wrong account and that's why you can't find it."

"What if it's not? What if someone took it?"

"Regina, you've worked tirelessly to make this a place where that sort of thing doesn't happen, and we all know how you feel about corrupted officials. I doubt anyone would dare ignite your ire."

She slumps, turning her back on her desk and leaning against the side of it, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down. She's ashamed of the single tear she feels trickling down her cheek. She shouldn't cry, mother always said crying is for the weak.

But mother is dead, and Regina has spent enough money on therapy to know that Cora Mills and her twisted version of what a successful young lady should be are not something she needs to live up to. So _dammit_ , she'll cry if she wants to.

"Oh, Regina," she hears Robin say when she surreptitiously wipes away the salty evidence of her frustration, and then she feels his arms wrap around her, his hand gently bringing her head towards his chest.

"I don't know what's happening anymore, I'm so caught up in this mess that I barely know what day it is. How can anyone trust me to represent them when I can't even tell what day it is?!"

She's frazzled, angry and so, so tired, but his hold on her tightens, helps her ground herself, and so she reigns in her exasperation for his benefit, sniffling and trying her hardest to push the tears back, and only then does she realize he's muttering reassurances in her ear.

"It's okay, take a deep breath," he says, and she does. "That's it. Just breathe. You can fix this, alright? It's just a minor bump in the road, you can handle it."

"You think too highly of me, Robin. Don't."

She pulls back to look at him better, but they're still close enough that she can feel the warmth of him, can still feel his breath ghosting over her cheek, and then his hands rise to cup her face, his eyes finding hers.

"Listen to me, you are incredible at this job. You're strong, and brave, and human. Those qualities make you the right choice for the people. _That_ is why they trust you."

His voice is low and raspy, their proximity intoxicating, and there's energy crackling between them in a way there hasn't been before. He seems to feel it, too, because he's leaning in, and she finds herself closing her eyes despite the many alarms that go off in her head telling her that this can't happen, that it could end her entire career, that he could—.

His lips landing on hers erase any and all worries, and the gentle press of his mouth against hers feels so right that it shakes her, but the moment is over before she can fully give in, as Robin is pulling back a few paces and looking at her with wide eyes.

"I'm s— I'm sorry," he stammers, mortified.

"I'm not," she tells him, because this moment his honor has just interrupted is the most alive she's felt in two years, and she realizes then that she's ready. She's in, she's all in.

He's staring at her, baffled, it seems, by the words that just left her mouth, and she supposes it's a bit bold and audacious to out and out admit that she wants this, but propriety isn't something she's interested in right now. No, right now all she wants is more of that feeling, more of that spark she felt when he'd given in to his desires just seconds ago.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes herself off the desk where she's perched, walking slowly towards him and looking right into his eyes when she reaches him, her hand settling on his chest.

"I'm not sorry at all," she breathes, and then she's crashing their lips together, kissing him with every ounce of pent up need she's had for the past few weeks, letting go of her apprehension and the nagging feeling that this is wrong, because nothing that feels this good can be wrong, it just can't.

He's surprised at first, she can tell by the way he hesitates in returning the kiss, but then her tongue peeks out to lick at the seam of his lips, and he finally surrenders, his satisfied groan muffled against her mouth.

He explores her, savors her, and she does the exact same to him, breathing in his moans and grazing her teeth over his bottom lip, reveling in the shiver her actions cause in him, loving the way his body seems to mold itself to her, his hands finding her waist and grasping, chest pressed against hers, until the kiss is heated enough that his fingers coast over bare skin under the hem of her top, and she wants -needs- more.

"Robin," she rasps after parting their lips with a wet pop, and he opens his eyes, dark and deep and lustful as he stares at her, and this is not the place or time, not in her office in the middle of the night, not while she's trying to figure out who's stealing that money, but she's done solving problems tonight. She just wants this. Him. She wants _him_.

"Take it off," she breathes when his fingers dip into the waistband of her charcoal skirt, and his answering whimper of _Regina_ has a liquid heat sloshing through her, but then he stops, takes his hands away from her and puts some space between them, his eyes roaming her form for a moment, settling on her confused frown before he turns and stalks to the door. For a second, she's baffled, a pang of rejection pulling at her heart, but Robin turns to her when he reaches the handle, gives her a small smile, and closes the door of her office, locking it before he walks back to her, his hungry gaze devouring her.

She watches him then, her breathing growing shallower by the second as he moves around the office and closes the drapes, turns off the main lights, so that the only things preventing them from being plunged into complete darkness are the glow of her computer screen and the warm, yellowy gleam from the lamp in the corner of her desk.

Large hands grasp her waist from behind after a few seconds of charged silence, and his lips are hot on her ear as he breathes out her name, burying his face in her neck. She shakes, whether from arousal or from the significance of what's about to happen, she does not know.

"Are you sure about this?" he mutters against her shoulder then, tongue licking at her skin after he voices his question, and Regina turns in his arms, finding his eyes and moaning softly at the heated desire she sees in them.

"I… yes, I'm sure," she tells him, voice trembling.

"You don't sound it," he tells her gently, one hand leaving her waist to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the apple of it as he looks into her eyes with nothing but care and concern, and it melts her, shatters what little composure she had left as tears fall from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head and trying to smile, "I'm being silly."

"Did I do something...?"

"No, you're wonderful, you feel wonderful," she says, pausing her speech by crushing their lips together again, savoring him and the sweet, wet touch of his tongue against hers for a moment before she pulls back, reigning herself in and taking deep breaths to calm down her rapidly beating heart.

"Regina, I don't want you to think-"

"I'm not thinking anything of the sort," she interrupts before he can start rambling about how he's not expecting anything from her, "I want this, Robin, I do, it's just…"

"Daniel?" he asks when she trails off, then insists, "he'd want you to be happy, you know... And I don't intend for this to be one night of passion and then forgotten, I want more with you, Regina, have wanted more for a while now."

"You have?" she asks, bewildered by his statement.

"Yes, but it wasn't the time. It still doesn't have to be, if you're not ready to let go of Daniel," he insists.

"Robin, it's not Daniel. I loved him more than anything, yes, and I miss him every day, but you're right, he'd want me to be happy, and you're a good man, and a fantastic kisser," she says, and he smirks in response. "But I'm the governor of Maine, you're my chief of security. This is dangerous. If the press finds out, they'll ruin me, ruin you."

"I can keep a secret," he says with a little smirk that has her chuckling humorlessly and bending her head forward, so that her forehead is touching his as she speaks again.

"Would you really be willing to do that? A secret relationship isn't exactly what you had in mind, I'm sure."

"I just want to be with you, Regina," he tells her then, his conviction shaking her when he adds, "in whatever way you'll let me."

Her hands settle on either side of his face, a sad smile breaking out on her face as she looks at him, so determined to make her happy.

"All this time you've been my friend, my rock, you've been there for me in ways no one else has," she says, feeling selfish when she adds, "I don't want to lose that."

Robin smiles, then ducks his head to plant a kiss on her forehead, his nose bumping hers as he replies, "You never will, no matter what happens."

It's all the reassurance she needs, and with it she's bringing their lips together again, slowly this time, taking in every sensation his touch evokes in her, moaning low in her throat when his hand slips to her rear and presses her closer.

Robin groans against her neck, laving his tongue there and making her squirm. They spend a few minutes like that, just wildly making out, tasting and sampling and tangling limbs as they grow desperate to explore each other, until his hand is back under her blue silk blouse, firmer this time, surer, making its way up until he finds a breast and kneads gently, then stops altogether.

"Wait," he says when she moves her hands to unbutton the offending garment, "I want to do that."

She smirks when he half-grins at her, her rear bumping into the side of the desk as she perches herself on it again and leans her hands back against the wooden surface, biting her lower lip as she watches him watch her, his breath heavy as he trails one finger up her shirt, fiddling with the buttons.

Her heels fall to the floor with a loud _clunk!_ as she kicks them off, her thighs rubbing together as she searches for friction, her ass sliding a little bit further out with the movement, hands shifting to grab onto the edge of the desk when Robin finally begins unbuttoning her.

He's slow. Torturously so. But she likes it, takes this time to admire him, to take in the slight furrow of his brow as he concentrates on popping open the little plastic studs that hold her shirt together, to catch the hitch in his breath when the fabric finally falls off and he's left staring at her.

"So beautiful," he whispers before his mouth swoops in and trails a path of kisses from one swell to the other just over the navy lace of her bra, teeth nipping at her skin, making her moan and writhe where she sits completely at mercy.

Robin trails his tongue over her skin while his hands cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples over the lace, and then he starts with the kisses again, one and two and three and twenty, his nose breathing her in as he goes from breasts to stomach and back up, leisurely drawing random patterns with pecks of his lips over her body.

"That feels good," she breathes out, and it only spurs him on, his mouth traveling up the length of her neck on one side and down the other, teeth catching on the elastic strap at her shoulder and pulling it down, down, down, until it can go no further and snaps softly right above her elbow, his lips never stopping their descent even as they let go of the strap and continue down her arm, his head moving to the side to land a kiss on her palm when she places it against his cheek.

His hands find the hem of her skirt and begin rucking it up her legs, until it's bunched as far as her thighs, his mouth following the path left by his fingers as they drag down one leg and then the other, bringing her sheer stockings down with them until they're on the floor, forgotten and abandoned in favor of smooth skin that he licks as he moves back up.

"Robin," she rasps, and it sounds needy, like she's asking for something.

"Yes, Regina?" he asks against her breasts, apparently catching onto her tone as well.

"I… I want..." she's lost her brain, apparently, cannot find words for her request, but it's all his fault, really, because his hand has just inched up her thigh, one finger pushing her underwear aside and ghosting over where she needs him, while his mouth finds a nipple over the fabric of her bra and sucks it into his mouth, turning her into this incoherent mess.

"What do you want?" he asks as that treacherous finger presses a bit more firmly, plays with her clit a little as he continues taunting her with his delicious voice and that ridiculously sexy accent. "Tell me, Regina. I want to know you this way, I want to make you come right here on your desk."

God, if he keeps talking like that she might never be able to form a proper sentence again. Her mouth is dry, tongue peeking out to wet her lips as she tries to catch her breath, gasping when he moves up and nips at her neck and dear god, that finger is slipping into her now, pumping slowly as he continues to leave a wet trail over shoulder and neck, and it's only when her hands leave the desk and slam against him that she realizes he has yet to undress, and no, she can't have that.

"I want your mouth," she finally says, answering his question before she bends to her task.

Her hands move deftly, more so than she'd thought they would considering how riled up she is. He's in a white button-down and black slacks, his belt buckle emitting a metallic clink as she loosens it, fingers finding the button right after and popping it open easily, dropping the pants to the floor where he stumbles a little as he steps out of them. Her hands instantly move under his shirt, raking her nails up his warm skin, a whimper leaving her when he shifts his focus from her neck to her mouth, his tongue immediately seeking hers. Ah, he likes the nails, she notes, running them up his sides again, a little harder this time, and he groans into her mouth, his hips jerking against her leg.

Regina pushes herself off the desk then, until she's standing right in front of him, and Robin bites his lip as he watches her reach back and undo her bra, dropping it to join her shirt and stockings on the giant rug under them. They get rid of her skirt together, and his calloused fingers hook into her panties, dragging them down her legs until he's kneeling before her as she kicks off the dark blue lace that matches her already discarded bra.

She's pushed back against the desk, lands on it rather gracelessly, but it doesn't matter, because the new angle and the lack of clothes allow her to open her legs wide for him, and then his tongue finds her clit and she's drowning in the pleasure of it.

It takes everything in her not to scream the mansion down as he licks and sucks at her, his lips slurping against her sensitive nub, tongue flicking at it over and over again while his finger circles her entrance, plays with her, taunts her, and it's wet and hot and frustrating and insanely good all at once.

"Fuck, yes!" she tells him as she starts playing with her breasts, thumb rubbing over her left nipple. "Just like that."

Robin keeps exploring, letting his tongue dip into her, then his fingers, two of them, then three, fast and hard and delicious when he crooks them up inside her and finds just the right spot.

"Suck," she breathes in a plea, and he's all too happy to comply, blowing hot air over her clit before he closes his lips around it and sucks hard, fingers slowing down in contrast, and it's been so long since anyone's done this to her that she knows it'll be over soon. It all feels _so good_.

"Come for me, Regina," he murmurs against her as he draws his wet digits out before he gives her a flat, long lick, another, and another, and next thing she knows his fingers are back inside her and his tongue is going wild against her clit and she's coming, coming and panting and making high-pitched, breathy noises she hadn't thought herself capable of.

"Oh, god," she says as she comes down from her lovely, delirious high.

"You're stunning," he tells her from his place of worship, his eyes drinking her in from head to toe, lingering at her breasts, his tongue licking at his upper lip when his detailed appraisal brings his gaze back to her sex, and he ducks back in, giving her too-sensitive clit one final little kiss, chuckling when she squirms.

"And you are entirely too clothed," she teases in a raspy voice, "come here."

He obeys, stands before her and lets her remove his shirt slowly. She doesn't unbutton it, but rather drags it up his body, kissing a line up his toned abdomen as she goes, licking briefly at his nipple when his chest is finally on display, her tongue laving over it on her way up to his jaw, his stubble rubbing against her cheek, making her tremble in his arms as they circle around her waist to bring her closer, and a guttural _fuck, Regina!_ is uttered against her skin when she runs her fingers along his length over the fabric of his boxers.

His hands find purchase on her waist then, pushing her further back on the desk as he bites at her lower lip, and she'd be embarrassed by the sound that comes out of her when he lets his finger drift back down and into her, except that it feels so good she really can't bring herself to care, regaling him with every moan and squeal that spills out of her as he fucks her with his finger, spreads her wetness with it, toys with her clit, joins it with a second and lets them slip inside her again.

"Oh, god!" she all but shouts, praying to every deity out there that the agents on patrol out in the halls didn't hear her.

"So wet," Robin groans against her, his breath warm fanning over her ear, his free hand tangling in her hair, feeling the texture of it between his fingers. Another mental note, he likes her hair.

"I want you inside me," she whispers against his mouth when he moves to kiss her again, and he ducks his head down and lets out a stream of curses against her nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, laps at it while it's trapped there, and her fingers thread in his hair and tug him closer. He gets the message, spends a couple of wonderful minutes lavishing the hardened peak with the attentions of his tongue before he switches to the other and does the same, his hand still down between her legs, cupping her, fingering her.

"God, I need to feel you," he begs her, and she has half a mind to ask him what he's waiting for (she already told him she wants him _in_ her), but then she feels a rush of cold air as he leaves her, crouches down on the floor to look for his pants and finds his wallet in one of the pockets, fishing out a condom from the battered leather and throwing it on the corner of the desk. Ah, yes, good thing he's still sound enough to remember these things ( _she_ clearly isn't).

"Should I be offended that you carry one of those with you? Were you hoping to hook up with someone else, Agent Locksley?" she asks in jest, knowing full well that's not something he would do, but it surprises her that he doesn't catch on to the joke, his face growing serious for a moment as he stares at her.

"I don't want anyone else," he tells her in earnest, "I need you to know that right now, before we go any further. I only want you, Regina."

The fierce determination in his words moves her, makes her smile at him as she tilts her head to the side and looks him over.

"Come here, you," she tells him, and suddenly the atmosphere changes, no longer the frenzied, wet exchanges of before, but rather a wave of serenity settles in, drains every sound, every fleck of light, envelops them in a warm, cozy bubble where everything is discovered by touch and feel, where their lips find each other as if they've been doing this dance for centuries, and the taste of him, the way he breathes her name as her hand rubs over the smooth skin of his shaft when he finally removes his boxers, the reverence with which he touches her, a hand trailing over her cheek, thumb ghosting over her closed eyelids, making her lashes flutter, it all speaks of something more, something bigger, and the significance of it has her eyes watering as they gaze into his.

She kisses him again, slow and deep and incredible, his hands roaming her ribcage, one drifting down to her wet heat yet again and rubbing over it with no aim, no playful dalliances on her clit, no thrusting inside of her, just caressing, exploring with soft passes of his fingers over her, and the intimacy of it has her whimpering, sagging against him as her own hand finds his cock and pumps a few times, slowly, lazily, pulling back his foreskin on every downward stroke, her thumb spreading the liquid bead of arousal at his tip.

It takes them a few minutes, shaken as they are by what they're about to do, but when he finally rolls on the condom and sinks into her, it's heaven. He's thick and warm and lovely, pushing his way inside her slowly as she opens her legs wider where she's sitting on the side of her desk, her hands wrapping around his neck and holding on as she rolls her hips against him at a snail's pace, basking in his answering groan and the small bite he lands on her shoulder.

His left arm is wrapped around her, his right hand trapped between them, squeezing the swells of her breasts, thumb rubbing tight circles over one nipple, then the other, and Regina lets her head drop back from where it had been nestled against the crook of his shoulder, feels his tongue immediately lick up her neck, teeth nipping at her chin when he reaches it.

Their eyes meet, then close as he begins to move a hair faster, their mouths hovering, breaths mingling as they grow more and more ragged, and then the hand that had been tending so deliciously to her nipples drops down to her clit and rubs slowly as he thrusts up into her a bit more firmly, making her back arch while her legs wrap around his waist to bring him closer.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he tells her, voice muffled against her breasts when he ducks down to tease and lap, adding a little suction when he finds her nipple again.

"You, too," she chokes. "Your cock feels amazing."

Robin's low _fuck!_ has tiny bursts of heat shooting through her, and then she's picking up the pace a bit, asking him to go harder, to please make her come again, because she _needs_ to come again, needs to come with him inside her.

He does just that when he grazes her lower lip and raps his hips against her harder, the desk scooting back under the force of their movements and almost making him slip out of her, but he's quicker, moves closer and resumes his thrusting.

"Faster," she begs, and "god, you feel so good."

"Are you close?" he asks, and she nods furiously against his shoulder as he picks up the pace, until the desk is rattling under them as he fucks her into oblivion, every hard thrust now hitting that spot inside her that makes her want to scream. But she can't, she can't scream or she'll alert everyone and their mother that she's being fucked by her security chief, so she muffles her shouts by biting into the skin of his shoulder.

Gently, Robin pushes her back with a hand in the valley between her breasts, until she's lying down over the hard wooden surface of the desk as his hand drags down her body and finds her clit again, rubbing furiously at it with his thumb now as he thrusts into her. Regina can vaguely feel a couple of pens and a paperweight slightly digging into her back, knows she'll probably have the marks of them on her skin later, but she's too caught up in Robin to care.

She feels her second orgasm of the night seize her with one particularly hard thrust of his cock inside her, her arms stretching by her sides like wings as she writhes under his attentions, his hands holding on to her thighs as they fall from their grip around his waist, and with a few more deep pumps and a light squeeze of her inner walls around him, she watches him as he comes, his face contorted in a most exquisite expression, that husky voice of his uttering her name in the most succulent moan she's ever heard. She wants to hear it forever.

Her body feels like jelly, her legs shaky when they drop from Robin's hold as he moves to get rid of the condom, and then he's hooking his arms under her and carrying her to her chair, where he plops himself down with her atop his lap and slightly to the side, her back pressing into the left side of his chest, his nose skimming her shoulder. He rests his chin against it as they grin at each other and take the next hour to just relax, talking and laughing softly between caresses and teasing looks and peppered kisses.

* * *

The next day, when the bank's investigation for the missing money shows that indeed, it was simply deposited in the wrong account, she celebrates the averted crisis by sprawling naked on Robin's bed while he does wicked, delicious things to her with his mouth... and yes, Regina decides, she could definitely get used to this.


	2. And a Happy New Year

**_Another prequel one-shot from the MP verse._**

 ** _Have a little glimpse into Robin and Regina's first Christmas/New Year's as a couple, the origin of the white bikini from chapters 5/6 that Robin loves so much, and how a certain term of endearment came to be.  
_**

 ** _Also know that now that all my holiday writing is done, I should be going back to regularly updating MP, so I expect to have a new chapter for that story posted very soon (and the full story finished by my birthday!)_**

* * *

It's still a little foreign to her, spending Christmas without Daniel.

The first one, it had all been fresh still, only a few months having passed after his loss, when all the splendor of the holidays adorned the governor's mansion, and she had cried herself to sleep on Christmas Eve while wrapped in his worn navy sweatshirt, alone in her bedroom, her heart heavy with the mourning of his passing. The new year had been no different, she'd taken to her room again, secluded from everyone, and drowned herself in whiskey and memories of happier times that would never return.

Last year, things had shifted a bit. Roland had started talking some months before, a few babbled expressions here and there, some broken sounds that made up the words Dada and Gina (a nickname she hated, but accepted, because he'd look so proud whenever he'd call her by name, and who could ever resist those curls and dimpled cheeks?). Pain weighed on her still, but this time she hadn't curled up in bed and let her grief cripple her.

Instead, she'd spent her night reading stories to her favorite person in the world, telling him tales of Santa and his reindeer, of Mr. Scrooge and his ghosts, of the ill-fated Grinch and his spoiled plans to rob the world of Christmas, and for a while there, she'd been content, the feeling having deepened bright and early on Christmas morning, when Roland had finally said her name correctly, given her a big, wet kiss on the cheek, and eagerly presented her with a tray of gingerbread cookies he'd messily decorated himself, his father trailing not far behind with a potted poinsettia in hand -his own festive offering for her-, a friendly smile on his face. She'd returned that smile, a small, fleeting thing, but returned it nonetheless, glad to be spending the holidays with a friend.

This year, everything is upside down, but in a good way. Her grief is dormant, still present but dulled by light and happiness. She's in a relationship, whether she admits it or not, and it's brought her enormous joy. No longer confined to the solitude of the mansion, Christmas had found Regina cozy in Robin's living room, her head upon his shoulder as they took a much-deserved respite on his couch, staring silently at the twinkle lights of the tree she and Roland had spent the better part of the day decorating (she'd also spent the better part of the day sneaking kisses with the boy's father under mistletoe sprigs he'd strategically placed around the house, but Roland needn't know that). So yes, it's strange to spend the holidays without her husband, but now, now there are other things to make her smile, other people she calls home. It's different, of course, but her holidays are once again sweet and full of laughter, presents, carols, food and... love.

He hasn't said it again, perhaps in an attempt to not make her feel guilty, but she sees it in his eyes, feels it in the way he holds her, in how proudly he talks about her and her run for the presidency when he thinks she's not listening. He loves her, _loves_ her, deeply and with his entire heart, his smile lighting up when she looks his way, and god how she wishes she could reciprocate his declaration, voice the words he now keeps quiet so as not to pressure her. But she can't, not yet, because she's already lost Daniel, and it nearly killed her. If something were to happen to Robin... she wouldn't survive it, and so she refuses to give power to the emotions swirling inside her, settles for quietly showing her affections instead of expressing them out loud.

She's told him all this already, has apologized for not being able to return the sentiment and explained why she won't allow herself to surrender to those feelings just yet, and Robin has been nothing but understanding, telling her he doesn't need those three words from her unless she's ready, that he'll respect her need for however much time it takes her to overcome her fears, and as romantic as it is that he's willing to wait for her, it _hurts_ , rips her apart that she can't give him what she knows he desperately craves, despite having said the contrary.

But now is not the time for such dire topics. Instead, Regina basks in that love he so freely shows her in every touch, every word, and starts preparations for the New Year. She plans games and surprises for the early hours of the night that will be spent with Roland, then arranges for more naughty celebrations for later, once the boy is tucked in and asleep in his bed, and only the two adults are left to wait til midnight.

They'll be at Robin's house for the night (she's perfected the art of escaping the mansion and sneaking into his home at this point), away from the prying eyes of her staff, and Regina has a mind to welcome the new year with champagne and a nice bubble bath in his tub. She's picked up a new bikini for the occasion, a white one with a bit of a 70s flair to its design. The top is strapless and ties at her back, in a bow easy enough for Robin to pry open once their desires take over the evening, and the bottom is held together on either side by two metallic rings that sit snug on her hips, framing a patch of skin in a way that entices and teases whoever's looking.

The garment drives Robin crazy when she loses her robe later that night and reveals it, and she smiles in smug satisfaction as she climbs into the foamy mass that covers his tub, settles between his legs and rests her back on his torso, her head against his shoulder when she moves just a little to the side and lands a kiss on his jaw. They're normally naked when they take these baths together, but she wanted to surprise him, wear something sexy and new that would make him moan at the sight, and the skimpy swimsuit has done just that, she can feel him hardening against the small of her back.

"I never thought I'd be so aroused from seeing you with clothes _on_ ," he jokes against her neck, licking the spot sensually, trailing his teeth softly along her skin.

"Mmm," is all she says, and makes a grab for the champagne flutes that rest on the corner edge of the tub, handing one to him and swirling the liquid in hers slowly, taking a sip and closing her eyes as she rests against him.

The clink of glass against ceramic echoes in the space after a few minutes of complete silence, and then Regina feels Robin's hand prying her champagne glass out of her grasp, her eyes opening to catch him setting it just beside his on the tub's edge. His body shifts, sinking lower into the hot water and bubbles and then he sighs, his warm breath against her neck as he moves her hair to one side and rests his chin in the exposed skin of her shoulder.

"What are you up to?" she asks with a mischievous grin, her eyes closed, head still resting against him.

"That, Governor Mills, is for me to know, and you… to enjoy," he says cryptically, and then proceeds to run his hands along her body, his touch making her shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asks, moving to sink them further under the water, but she shakes her head vehemently, presses harder against him.

"No, not cold," she assures as her body starts to emulate the wavy movement of the water, her hips rolling leisurely against his, slowly stoking the ember of their arousal.

"I must say," he rasps against her after long seconds of exploration, his hands still searching, wandering along her skin, fingers dipping under the top of her bikini and toying with a nipple, "I quite like this bathing suit."

Regina giggles in response, satisfied once again in her choice of attire, her body still undulating as it follows the current created in the water by Robin's movements. His hand finds her back, wedges between it and his chest, and deftly tugs at the bow, the fabric peeling off her body and exposing her breasts to his heated touch.

Warm hands knead and fondle the swells, thumbs brushing against the hardened peaks as his mouth seeks out hers, a sideways kiss that is sloppy and divine, the taste of him intoxicating in the best of ways. Her own hand finds his cock below the water, hard for her already, and pumps slowly, firmly, her mouth falling open against his when he moves away from their kiss to gasp out her name, and _god_ , she loves this effect he has on her, how everything he does, everything he makes her feel when they're like this, is always intense and hot and ripe with raw desire.

"I want you," she whimpers, loudly, the need to stay quiet forgotten until he utters a gentle warning, to remind her of the little boy sleeping in the room down the hall.

"Robin," she whispers her plea, toning down the near scream she'd been about to unleash.

"I want to watch you first, feel you, see you as I make you come," he tells her, murmuring the words against her cheek before adding a soft bite to her jaw, "please?"

Her teeth sink into her lower lip, her eyes closing as she nods eagerly, exhales when he rolls her left nipple between thumb and forefinger, and then he's going down, further and further as his mouth sucks at the crook of her shoulder, kisses a line up her throat, his other hand still playing with her breasts, switching from one to the other in their lazy ministrations.

"That feels amazing," she gasps when the hand that ventured south rubs at her clit over her bikini bottoms, her head turning to the side to kiss him again, frantic this time, tongues tangled and leaving wet trails on pliant lips as bubbles splash out of the tub and onto the floor tiles. Regina picks up the pace of the hand still moving up and down his cock, his tip bumping into her ass when she grinds her hips down a little harder, loving the way Robin groans against her. But then he's seeking out her hand, withdrawing his from her bikini and wrapping two fingers around her wrist, moving it away from him. She sits up, turns to face him, confused.

"If you keep that up, I won't be able to last long enough to be inside you," he explains, a little sheepish in his admission, and she smiles smugly, knowing it's the bikini that's done it.

"Fair enough," she replies, smirk still in place, and then her hands are stroking up and down his arms as she situates herself against him once more.

His mouth is lost in her neck, both arms clasped tightly around her, keeping her back flush against his chest as he kisses and kisses, showers her skin with lovely little licks and gentle bites that have her fighting the urge to cry out in pleasure, and then his hand is moving down again, dipping into the waistband of the bikini this time, fingers instantly finding her and teasing, rubbing, and Regina can feel him smile against her shoulder when she bucks her hips involuntarily against his touch, silently begging for more.

He grants it to her, thank _god_ , doesn't taunt her with the possibility of a firmer stroke or a deeper thrust, but rather ventures two fingers inside her, slowly moving in and out, feeling her, exploring her every crevice before pushing back into her languidly, muttering words of adoration in her ear, telling her how good she feels, how warm and wet and tight, how he can't wait to be inside her.

It's her favorite thing about sex with Robin, the way he speaks to her, how he's so driven to tell her what he wants to do to her, the heights he wants to bring her to, how he loves the feel of her body, the taste of her on his tongue, how her screams when he makes her come are some of his favorite sounds... It all makes her feel cherished, sexy, beautiful.

His hand is picking up speed with every plunge of his digits into the wet heat of her, aided by the roll of her own hips against his hand, until bubbly water is spilling everywhere and that hand is rapping fast and hard against her, the angle awkward but _good_ , pleasure blooming out of his every action.

"I'm so close, _god, so close_. Don't stop," she orders as she turns her head to the side, her voice a broken whisper that he answers with a fierce kiss to her lips, noisy and wet and perfect.

"I can feel it," he tells her, "you're so beautiful. Let go, Regina," he adds after a teasing bite to her earlobe, "let me watch you."

She comes with a muted scream, her hips bucking under the bubbles, his fingers still buried inside her as she rides wave after wave of immeasurable pleasure, her limbs tingling with the intensity of it, her breath catching as she regains her bearings.

"God, I love you so much," he rasps against her shoulder, his hand still moving slowly inside her to prolong the feeling, but his rhythm falters when she stills abruptly at his words.

"Sorry, I-" he starts, removing his hand from her in the process, but she turns to him, shakes her head to cut off his hurried apology, because she will not have him feeling guilty about this.

"Don't be. I like it when you say it," she admits, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah?" he asks, his tone hopeful, a hesitant smile behind his question.

"Yeah," she reassures, and that timid smile widens, his eyes soften, and his hands are grabbing both of hers to help her as they both stand, bringing her close and landing a kiss on her lips, arms wrapping around her, uncaring about the bubbles clinging to them.

* * *

When his cock finally finds its home inside her, they're on his bed, bodies still damp from their time in the tub as they hold on to each other. Outside, the new year is just arriving, the fireworks in the distance casting echoes of light that filter through the window, reflecting muted tones of blue and red and purple on his skin as he moves above her, and Regina cannot recall a more beautiful sight.

His thrusts are slow at first, gather speed the closer he gets to his peak, and she didn't think she'd come again, had been content to cater to his pleasure without thought of a second dose of her own, but then he's changing the angle just slightly, and his hand is on her clit, his voice gruff as he moans her name and carries them both closer and closer to the edge. She responds with a gasp of her own, rolls her hips upwards to meet his, and then Robin is bending down, leaning over her and taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly, laving his tongue over it, his teeth pulling on it just enough to make her entire body writhe under him.

He comes inside her right after her second orgasm seizes her, and their voices join in utterance of unintelligible expressions, Robin stilling above her after he pumps himself into her over and over, until they're both spent and sated in absolute bliss, his body collapsing next to hers, their shallow breaths mingling when they turn to face one another, her lips landing a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose before they settle more comfortably on the bed, his cheek pillowed on top of her breast, his hair tickling her chin.

"Happy New Year, Robin," she chimes, her tone a mere whisper, carrying with it the smile that forms on her lips as she says the words. His answer comes in a sleepy mumble, tacking on a new term of endearment that Regina can't help but beam at, because it's a way to address her that conveys what she truly means to him, two simple, wonderful words that she's confident she'll be able to return in kind soon.

"Happy New Year, _my love_."

* * *

 _ **Thank you all so SO much for your undying support throughout 2015, I can only hope the new year brings us all happier times and many, many more occasions to celebrate love and hope and friendship.**_

 _ **Happy 2016, folks!**_


	3. First Birthday at the White House

_Robin glossed over it about halfway through chapter 6 of Madam President, so I decided to expand it here from Regina's point of view. Let's see what her first birthday at the White House was like, shall we?_

 _Also, happy Regina's Birthday to all! =)_

* * *

The carrot cake is delicious. Spongy and moist and full of walnuts, just the way she likes it, smothered in the fluffiest cream cheese frosting she's ever tasted. She cannot get enough of it.

She ate two portions of it at lunch, is eating another one in bed now, the clock ticking closer and closer to eight o'clock. She's sprawled on her stomach atop the covers, Roland next to her digging into his own piece of cake, and they both look at each other and _Mmm_ together at the soft, sweet goodness, then proceed to take another bite.

She should not be letting him consume such a large amount of sugar at this time of night, but it's her birthday, dammit, and she'll enjoy the last moments of it eating cake with her best friend, and watching Yzma and Kronk's evil plans fail hilariously on her TV screen.

Roland giggles loudly when the evil sorceress is accidentally turned into purple, helium-voiced cat, and Regina turns to watch him, takes in his adorable, bouncy curls, the lovely dimples that are so reminiscent of his father's, the gigantic smile that melts her heart. He is, quite literally, her favorite person in the world.

A knock on her door alerts her to Robin's presence, and she looks up to smirk at him and wave him in, winks when he walks inside and brandishes a tiny, horribly wrapped gift box as he makes his way to them.

"Daddy, can 'e build a wat'rpark o'tside like Kuzco an' Pacha?" Roland asks around a mouthful of cake.

"Swallow your food before you speak," Robin reminds him kindly, veering away from the subject by asking, "Is that _cake_ you're eating?" in a stern tone.

"Regina let me!" The boy defends, and she smiles sheepishly at him, gestures to her own slice.

"We're being decadent tonight," she excuses as she gathers both plates and gets up to set them on the table out in the living area of the suite.

Robin watches her as she sits back on the bed, shakes his head with an amused grin, and then shows his son the little red box he's brought with him.

"Roland, shouldn't you be giving Regina her present?" he asks, and the boy perks up, snatches the box from his father and walks on his knees on the mattress towards her, presenting the small gift with a flourish.

"Happy majesty birthday, Regina!" he announces excitedly, making her chuckle even as she shakes her head at him fondly, turning to Robin before she speaks.

"This is your fault, you know," she admonishes. Ever since Roland overheard his father cheekily muttering a _Happy birthday, your majesty_ to her this morning, the boy has been adding the word to the celebration, but as much as the nickname grates her, she can't be angry when he says it so sweetly, least of all when he's handing her a present, and she knows Robin knows that, which is probably why he's grinning so smugly at her, as if daring her to be the least bit annoyed.

"Open it! Open it!" Roland pushes, interrupting the silent conversation between both adults, and Regina beams at him, takes the box in her hands and rips the shiny red paper off. Inside is a bracelet, plastic white beads strung on an elastic thread that she stretches as she slides it over her wrist, extending her arm in front of her and turning her hand this way and that, admiring the piece.

"It's beautiful!" she tells him, "Thank you, Roland."

"I made it myself!" he says, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Did you?! That's wonderful! I didn't know you could do that," she says, humoring him.

"Well," Roland replies, deflating slightly, "Ashley helped, but I did most of it!"

"It's gorgeous, sweetheart, I love it," Regina replies, taking another look at the bracelet. It's nothing trendy by red carpet standards, will probably be considered a little outdated and cheap when she wears it in public and fashion blogs start picking apart every piece of her outfit, but she could not care less about that. Roland _made_ this for her, that makes it the most special piece of jewelry she owns.

"Alright, son, it's time to go, say goodnight to Regina," she hears Robin say, and the little boy groans, asking for five more minutes, even venturing the possibility of staying overnight again.

"Oh, no, don't you start," Robin halts him with a chuckle, "you stayed over last night and played video games until after your bedtime, that's more than enough. Besides, you promised Ashley you'd spend the night in your room tonight, remember?"

Roland pouts, and it makes Regina look at Robin pleadingly, but he shakes his head minutely, waiting for his son to finish huffing and climbing down from the bed.

"Excuse me, young man," she stops him before he reaches his father, "aren't you forgetting something?"

It takes him a second, but when Regina taps her nose, he remembers, beams as he steps closer and drops a kiss to the tip of it, waiting for her to return the gesture with a kiss of her own before he walks to the door, his mood considerably brighter as he wishes her good dreams and grabs onto Robin's hand.

"You, too, honey, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she tells him, grinning when he nods enthusiastically and both her boys walk out the door together.

Robin comes back an hour later, through the hidden passageway rather than her door this time, and what a sight he is, walking into her room with disheveled hair, soft, gray cotton lounge pants and white tank top hugging his muscles instead of the stiff fabric of his uniform.

"You're mean," she tells him, pouting as he climbs on the bed and sits just behind her, one leg on either side of her as she rests her back against his chest, his own back leaning against the headboard.

"Why?" he asks after kissing the back of her neck.

"He wanted to stay."

"Ashley needs to get him ready early tomorrow, so they can go to that botanical garden across town, it was just easier for him to stay in his own room tonight," he explains, his voice rich like honey as he adds, "besides, tonight is _my_ turn at a sleepover with the birthday girl."

Regina smiles, leaning back a little further into him, tilting her head to the side so that his lips can catch the skin of her shoulder and drag up her neck, until he reaches her jaw and lands a brief peck there, and another on her cheek.

"Happy birthday, my love," he rasps into her ear.

"You've said that like ten times today," she taunts, "and you've yet to give me a present."

"Ah, yes, well, I'm afraid mine will come up short after Roland's stellar handmade masterpiece."

"Of course it will, my best friend gives the best birthday gifts, but that doesn't mean you're off the hook. Now where is it?" Regina demands, gasping when Robin actually places a small, black velvet jewelry box in her palm.

"Wait, you actually got me something?" she asks, baffled, "I thought..."

"What did you think?" he prods when she trails off, and she shakes her head, embarrassed.

"Honestly? I just thought you'd go down on me and then go get me more carrot cake," she admits, half mortified, half amused. Robin laughs.

"Well, if you must know, Madam President, I do plan on doing both of those things," he murmurs seductively, "but I wanted to give you this first."

She takes the box from him, her fingers trembling as they pry it open carefully. Inside is a set of stud diamond earrings, simple and elegant and gorgeous, the stones catching the light from her bedside lamp, shining like tiny stars in the semi-darkness of her bedroom.

"Oh, Robin," she says in a shaky whisper, "they're perfect."

"I realized the other day that I've never given you diamonds. Your first birthday as president seemed as good an occasion as any to start," he murmurs against her shoulder, kissing it before he rests his chin there, staring at the jewels still glinting inside their cushioned box.

"I love them," Regina tells him, her voice breaking, overwhelmed as she is with gratitude for his beautiful gesture. "Thank you."

She turns her head to the side to find his lips with hers, kisses him slowly and deeply, moaning low in her throat at the heady exchange, reveling in the way their breaths mingle when they take a break to simply look at each other, how his hand cradles her face, thumb caressing her cheeks as his eyes close and his mouth meets hers again.

Regina places her new earrings and bracelet on the bedside table, gets rid of her pajamas and underwear, and then enjoys the blissful experience that is Robin making good on his promises. He sucks at one nipple, then trails a lazy path with his tongue to the other, taking it between his lips and giving it a gentle graze of his teeth before he continues downward, tasting her body and making her squirm as he goes.

He licks slowly at first, mere passes over her flesh, barely touching her clit, until she's writhing on the bed, her state going from lazy and relaxed to riled up and needy in the span of mere minutes.

He picks up the pace, finally laps at her entrance before pushing one and two and three fingers in, thrusting faster and faster the more she cries out. His mouth is relentless on her clit, sucking and kissing and licking the sensitive nub until she's moaning his name.

She comes twice on his tongue, is left boneless and spent on the bed as he laves his tongue over her clit one more time and then moves away, walking to the living area of the presidential suite and returning with a small tray full of carrot cake. They eat together, feeding bits of cake to each other and laughing when the frosting ends up dotted on cheeks and noses, gentle lips kissing it off before they rearrange themselves on their sides on the bed, legs tangled under the covers, his arm wrapped around her as he presses his clothed chest to her naked back, landing another kiss on her neck, one more on her shoulder, a raspy _Good night, birthday girl_ murmured into her skin before they both begin to drift off.

"Thank you for making it so special," she whispers into the night, thinking he's probably already too deep in his slumber to hear her, but the lazy squeeze of his arm around her middle tells her he's listening. She brings his hand to her lips, kisses his knuckles and places it back over her stomach, relaxing into the soft sheets.

"You should make a wish before your day's over," Robin mumbles into her hair, and Regina smiles, marveling at her luck for having found him, this smart, handsome, wonderful man who gives her carrot cake and diamonds and orgasms for her birthday, who supports and understands her, _loves_ her, who holds and protects her heart like it's his most prized possession...

His breathing deepens, relaxes, and she lets its slow, steady rhythm lull her to sleep without ever making that wish.

She's already got everything she needs.


	4. Presidential Valentine

**_Happy Valentine's Day! Have some White House OQ feels =)_**

* * *

Regina has always hated Valentine's Day. Always. Finds it annoying and mushy and absolutely pathetic.

Thankfully, so does Robin. You wouldn't expect it from someone so romantic, but he does, he despises it, and she could not be more glad.

It's really a non-event for them, just another day, where they both roll their eyes at each other in camaraderie whenever someone nearby has that lovesick look, exuding that Valentine's glow that they both find so annoying.

But she's the president now, and is expected to be gracious and wish her nation a happy Valentine's Day on a television segment Gold has booked for her ("we have to show the people you're not a bitter widow, Madam President," he'd told her casually, his candor making Ursula spit out a warning), and so she becomes the object of Robin's mockery the night after, when he nags her about the cheesy, fluffy message of love she gave during her interview in the oval office balcony the day before.

"Stop it," she admonishes when he bursts out laughing at her annoyed frown, "Gold wrote it, not me."

"Ah, but you delivered it so convincingly, Hallmark will put it on all their cards from now on, I'm sure of it," he taunts, and she swats at his shoulder in retaliation, crossing her arms petulantly where she sits on the bed, legs dangling and mouth pouting as she turns away from his mirthful stare.

"Hey," he says from where he stands, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to his lips, placing kiss after kiss on it, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Was it really that bad?" she asks, but she knows the answer, of course it was bad. The statement was ridiculous, all rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers, she still doesn't know how she was able to stomach it.

Robin tries so hard to contain his laughter when he goes to answer her question, because he knows she's not in the best of moods after his teasing, but he can't stop it, the guffaw bubbles out of him as he nods and wheezes out another _I'm sorry_ that makes the corner of her mouth turn up slightly.

"You said, and I quote, 'this is a day where we must all share in the beauty of love and the happiness we give to each other', for a moment there I thought it was David's wife speaking."

Oh, god. No. She likes Mary Margaret well enough, but the woman is the walking definition of a Disney princess, all starry eyed and hopeful, smiling like she's about to burst into song or speak to forest animals, to the point where Regina sometimes wishes poison apples were a thing. Ugh, she's going to kill Gold.

"I don't think anyone will mind, though, Ruby said it was beautiful, so did Belle, even Chef Lucas was moved by it. It was only funny to me because I know how much you abhor the day," he explains as she crosses her legs up on the mattress, and her anxiety eases somewhat.

"I'm sorry I made fun of you," he says yet again, moving around the bed to the other side and climbing on it, lying flat on his stomach across the covers, staring up at her with his head propped up on his hand, elbow digging into the soft surface. His free hand finds hers, thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

"It's fine, I knew it was ridiculous, I _told_ Gold that it was, but it was part of his whole campaign to make me look like something other than a widow." She doesn't tell him of the colorful way the Press Secretary had voiced the very same statement, because Robin would probably kill him if he knew Gold spoke to her that way. And anyway, it's been handled, Ursula gave the man a very stern talking-to after the interviewer had left the premises.

"I have something for you," he says then, getting up from the bed and walking out to the living area of the suite, coming back in not a minute later with four bags of different types of Reese's chocolate, none of them are in any sort of special, pink Valentine's Day packaging, thank god, just good old peanut butter cups.

"Aw, you love me," she says, smiling fondly as he dumps the bags on the bed, and holds up a finger as a signal for her to wait, disappearing once again to the living room. When he returns this time, he's carrying things again, two lowballs balanced in one hand, a bottle of bourbon in the other.

"You _really_ love me," she amends, beaming at him as he pours, hands one of the glasses to her and clinks it with his after he sets the bottle on her night table.

They drink quietly, put their empty glasses away when they're done and then dig into the sweets, laughing together as they share stories of disastrous Valentine's Day celebrations long past, watching crappy romance movies on TV and making out during commercials, the chocolaty, boozy taste of him becoming addictive in mere seconds, her hands roaming his body. They're both still in their work clothes, too lazy to change at the moment, and she loves nights like this, when they're just snuggled into each other on the bed, having a fun time and eating candy, loves the random kisses he can't help but drop on her hair, her temple, her cheeks, loves the way those kisses trigger some of her own against his chest and neck and jaw, the quiet rumble of satisfaction he gives at the feel of her lips on him making her shiver pleasantly in his hold.

She _loves_ this man, loves him so much it hurts and heals and makes her fly all at once.

"Robin, I..." she starts, and then nothing else comes out, her voice trailing off and making him stiffen slightly, breaking their embrace so he can look at her proper.

"You what?" he begs, because of course he knows what she'd been about to tell him, knows she wants to say it, and then his face falls when she doesn't.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, guilt ripping her apart as she buries her face in his chest and holds on tight, afraid he'll leave.

"Oh, my love. Don't be, it's alright," he comforts, hugging her closer and planting a kiss on her brow.

"I just... I know how much it hurts you, and I hate hurting you."

"I'm fine, Regina. And I would never want to pressure you, least of all into telling me that you love me."

 _I do, though_ , she thinks but doesn't say. She's tried, so many times, she's tried, knowing it's ridiculous for her to still be so tight-lipped about her feelings, but for some reason, every time she decides to get the words out, they get stuck in her throat, a near-panic building inside her, making her chicken out at the last minute, and Regina wonders when the hell she'll be able to get over this nonsensical fear and finally tell him what he means to her.

"You'll say it when you're ready," he tells her with a tender smile, showcasing those dimples that she's so drawn to, "I don't mind waiting."

"You don't?" she asks, unsure. He's told her this a million times before, but her own insecurities get the best of her, have her doubting everything, and his voice is the only thing that seems to soothe her, his reassurances the only ones that ring true in her ears.

"Of course not," he promises, knowing her all too well, "I love you, I'm not going anywhere."

She smiles at him, then kisses him, mouth soft and sweet against his, her tongue darting out just slightly to lick at his top lip, her teeth then grazing the bottom one when he squirms at the action, and his breath grows heavy, his eyes fluttering closed as he sinks back into the pillows and drags her atop him, but they don't seek more, simply enjoy each other, delight in the little moans and the wet pop of their mouths as they separate to take a breath, and he smiles at her, his finger trailing a path down the center of her face, stopping at the tip of her nose to tap it lightly before continuing to her lips, that same finger touching them reverently, tracing their shape, the thin line of the scar that rests there, his eyes open and loving as she hovers above him.

And it's here, in his arms and with her mouth now peppering kisses down his jaw, to his collarbone, hand unbuttoning his shirt slowly, that Regina revels in the best of alternatives, injecting all the love she has for him not into words, but into every press of her lips and tongue on his skin.

She can't tell him yet, but she can _show_ him.


	5. Tribulations

**_In response to a prompt I received on Tumblr: Regina's PoV of Robin being shot._**

* * *

It's strange how detached you can become when you let fear rule your every move.

When she'd first started getting these ridiculous threats, Regina had shut down, isolated herself and refused to even acknowledge the fact that someone out there wanted to hurt her. When it became real, she'd lashed out, and accused Robin of wanting to play hero rather than be with her (not her proudest moment, that one). Then, when he and Mal warned her to stay away from public events until they caught the culprit, she'd declined their request to remain at the White House where she was safe, too worried over the reactions people would have if she missed the Correspondent's Dinner, too preoccupied with her own attempts at downplaying the threat to accept the notion that maybe, going out in public when there's a _killer_ on the loose is a bad idea.

And now she's paying for it.

It'd been wonderful at first, her in her midnight blue gown, pressed close to Robin, his hands roaming her body as they made out backstage, the slight possibility of getting caught adding a sort of thrill to their little moment. His lips had been so hungry, so perfect, and god help her, she'd been so close to sneaking away, to rucking up the heavy skirt and asking him to fuck her in her dress, and then David, curse his timing, had called her to the stage, ending their little tryst behind the curtain.

Her speech had been as well-received as Gold said it would be, and she'd been feeling pretty confident that the night had been a complete success, her mood giddy and excited as she exited the event, stopping by every few steps to shake some hands, pose for a photo or two...

She should've known it was all too good to be true.

Regina doesn't recall much, can't really pinpoint the moment it happened out of all the blurry, scary images in her head, all she remembers is the sounds, the loud, haunting bang of the gun, the sickening crack of Robin's head against the pavement, and that one split second of terrified silence that followed.

She remembers the blood, how it soaked her hands as she'd practically thrown herself to the floor to hold him. She remembers screaming at her security team, at Mal particularly, angrily shouting that she would _not_ leave him, pressing her hand into the wound even as they all tried to pry her away. She knows it was a petulant and unbelievably stupid thing to do, to remain in the open like that, such an easy target for whoever was trying to kill her, but she'd been at his side, where she belongs, where she should've been this entire time, but hadn't been able to because she has to keep their relationship a secret, a trap of her own making.

Mal's been with him, though, has assured her he's fine, and Regina, in turn, has assured Roland that his father is safe and healthy, that the wound was minor, finally calming the boy down after much crying on both their parts. She knows he's seeing him now, Ashley had come to take him ten minutes ago, and she's glad for it, knows it'll do the poor child some good to see his daddy alive and well, despite the gruesome and scary reports he'd seen on the news.

She's trying to address the situation, trying to listen to Ursula and Mal as they bicker over security protocols and how best to interrogate the shooter, a young man Mal has informed them used to work as part of Sidney's security detail.

That's been another shock, finding out it's Sidney Glass who's after her. She'd known he'd be angry and attempt some sort of revenge, but she'd thought it would involve blackmail of some sort, getting some fake dirt on her and threatening to leak it to the public, she hadn't expected him to go this far, and she doesn't know whether to be scared or angry or both.

Right now, she's just distracted, though, too much going around in her head to pay attention to what the two women beside her are fighting about, until a gentle hand presses into her shoulder and has her looking up at Mal.

"Honey, you should go to bed," she tells her.

"No, we have to figure this out," Regina replies, even though she has no idea what 'this' is, she hasn't really been listening.

"You're pale, and you're shaking, you've been through a lot today. Go, get some rest, we'll take care of everything," Mal insists, and she's really in no mood to put up a fight right now, so she agrees, gets up from her chair in the situation room and leaves the others to it, zombie-walking herself up to her room.

She doesn't sleep.

When the clock on her nightstand tells her it's 4AM, Regina gets up, unable to stay cooped up here any longer. To hell with keeping a respectable distance for the sake of appearances. She needs him, needs to touch him and kiss him and make sure he's alright.

She gets dressed for the day, foregoing the makeup at this early hour, and then heads out of her room and straight to the medical wing.

The sight that greets her as she walks in brings her to tears, because it's upon seeing him there, hooked up to IVs and sleeping, arm covered in bandages, that she realizes just how much she's hurt him, how much she's put him through. This is all her fault, all he's ever wanted is to love her, to take care of her, and it nearly got him killed.

It hits her then, that Robin could have died without ever hearing a _I love you_ from her, all because she's been so hellbent on protecting herself, when all along it was him she should've protected. She'd fooled herself into thinking her reluctance to say the words was some sort of magical barrier that would keep them both safe from getting too deep into this, a failsafe that wouldn't allow him to steal her heart with his loving touches and delicious kisses and beautiful soul. But the truth is, you can't steal something that's been given to you, and Regina has willingly given him her everything, had happily succumbed to his affections long ago, she just hadn't had the guts to admit it.

She's been there for almost an hour when he stirs, and she doesn't give him a chance to take in his surroundings before she's launching herself at the bed, throwing her arms around him and weeping into his neck, apologizing over and over again through kisses and tears, and _I'm fine_ , he keeps telling her, but he's not, he's injured, and could've died, and it's all because of her, because he loves her.

Regina grips him tighter, sobs harder, and suddenly feels him flinch under her. God, she's an idiot.

She moves away, ghosts a hand over his wound and asks him if it hurts, if he needs anything, and he just smiles, the bastard is lying there with a gunshot wound in his arm and he _smiles_ , even has the gall to flirt with her.

"I love when you're concerned about me," he tells her, grinning and kissing her like it's no big deal, like she's taking care of him during a cold or something equally meaningless, and it has more tears leaking from her eyes as she stares at him, dumbfounded.

"Regina..." He starts, but she doesn't let him speak, spews some frustrated concern his way.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" She demands, "You could've died!"

"I told you I would protect you."

That's it, that's all he says, and it irks her, because how _dare_ he be so wonderful?! More importantly, how dare he risk being wrested from her world when all she wants is to keep him in it forever?

"...I won't let you," she tells him, because she won't, not like this, her protection is not worth his life.

"Why not?"

And that's the moment she decides to tell him, because she's done keeping it inside, done hiding it, and from now on, not a day will go by where she doesn't do everything she can to keep him safe.

"Because I love you, you big moron!" She fires back, adamant about her plan, and then he's smiling, big and bright and gorgeous.

"Had I known it would take a bullet for you to finally say those words, I would've jumped in front of a gun a lot sooner," he quips, and dammit, this is not the time for him to be making jokes like this.

The moment is far from perfect, not one she would've hoped for to say her first _I love you_ to him. She's still crying, for one, nose red and eyes puffy and wet as she sobs and sobs, and this is a horrible situation, not the romantic gesture he deserves, but then he's cupping her cheek, bringing her towards him and dropping kisses all over her face, loving presses of his lips on her cheeks and brow and nose and lips before he tells her he loves her too, that he'll do anything to keep her safe, and no, that's not what she wants, it's her turn now.

She asks him, begs him to promise her he won't do something like this again, but he refuses, and Regina then does the one thing she can, and demotes him, assigns him to David's security, far away from her and the danger she faces, and leaves the medical wing in tears...


	6. Color

**_In response to a Tumblr prompt: First time Roland says Regina's name._**

* * *

"Gina!"

It's a squeak at best, a pair of high-pitched syllables of what little he can pronounce as he wobbles towards her. She's always hated being called Gina, always. Daniel used to call her that when he wanted to mess with her, and of course that would always end in apologetic kisses she loved to indulge in, but the fact remains that she despises the name.

And yet...

"Gina!" He says again, and she can't help but beam at the sleepy toddler now perched at her feet, his chubby little arms wrapping around her legs as he stares up at her with a big, toothy smile that melts her heart.

It's been rough without Daniel, and she can't remember the last time she felt happy until today.

Robin is standing by the door, watching them as Regina scoops up his son and hugs him to her chest, blowing a raspberry on his cheek and then rubbing her nose against his.

"You said my name!" She breathes, and the boy mumbles _Gina_ once more, making her giggle.

"Look at you all smiles," Robin says, walking further into her office.

"Did you hear him?!" She asks in a loud whisper, and he nods, dimples appearing when he grins at her.

"I did, indeed. Can't say I'm surprised. He's always been quite taken with you."

"And I, with him," she replies, her eyes still on Roland as she makes a funny face to make him laugh, but the boy is far too drowsy to pay much attention to her, and instead it's Robin who chuckles as he looks at her.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just nice to see you like this," he tells her, "it's been a while."

"He's my savior," she admits, resting her cheek atop Roland's head when he buries his face in her chest and settles there, thumb in his mouth as his eyes begin to droop the second she starts to rock him from one side to the other.

"We have that in common," Robin answers, his grin turning into a sad, serene smile that makes her feel for him. He knows exactly the kind of grief she's been going through, knows the pain she's been feeling, because he's felt it, too, and despite how much it hurts (or maybe because of it) he has been there for her, always strong and caring, his son offering that single ray of sunshine her life has been clinging to for the past few months.

"Thank you, Robin," she says then, "for letting me be a part of his life. I know it's a bit... unorthodox, to let your boss be so close to your son, and-"

"You're not my boss, Regina," he interrupts. "Well, you are, but... you're also my friend, I care about you, I want you to be happy. And Roland loves you."

"I love him, too," she whispers, dropping a kiss into the boy's curls as he snuggles closer to her. "Can you wait til he falls asleep before you take him home?"

"No problem," Robin agrees, "I'll be outside."

"No, don't," she calls out as he turns to leave, utters a request she didn't plan on when she adds, "Please, stay."

"Are you sure?" He asks, as taken aback by her words as she is, because he's never done that before, has always tried to keep as much propriety between them as possible while at work, and them being together in her office at 9pm while she rocks his son to sleep isn't exactly proper, not when she's the governor of Maine and Robin her head of security, but Regina finds that yes, she's sure. She wants him here.

"Of course," she tells him, nodding towards the chair by her desk, prompting him to sit there as she walks around with Roland in her arms, slowly humming a lullaby in his ear as she waits for him to fall asleep.

She can sense Robin's eyes on her, but it feels... nice. It doesn't make her squirm unpleasantly, like it does when other men look at her, rather it has a comforting warmth spreading through her. She feels... content, cared for, _safe_.

Life without Daniel has been bleak, dull, muted shades of gray sucking out the light and color of her world, but Robin and Roland have started bringing that color back, brightening her day with the simplest of gestures, like the coffee Robin brought for her this morning, or the painkillers he gave her yesterday just because he could tell she had a headache, or the reassuring hug he'd given her last week when she'd broken into tears, or the way Roland had ran towards her with a cookie earlier today and screamed with joy when she picked him up, his adorable laugh when she'd given him a piggy-back ride into the kitchen two days ago...

They've become her rock, and she's so thankful for them, so grateful to have them there, because they bring her happiness even in her darkest moments, and she realizes then that maybe, with them at her side, life could one day not be so bleak anymore.


	7. Recovery

**_Prompt: Regina's POV of her recovery and getting shot._**

* * *

Baby food.

She's a grown woman, for crying out loud, she's the goddamn President of the United States, and she's eating _baby food_.

She has never despised Sidney Glass more than she does right this second.

Getting shot hurt like hell, she doesn't remember much except for the blinding, piercing pain and Robin's scared eyes as he held her and kissed her and told her she'd be alright. Her days at that hospital in Philadelphia had been boring and monotonous despite the constant visits from friends, staff and doctors, and even now, when she's back at the White House and in the comfort of her own bed, the recovery has been less than ideal in terms of pain and physical mobility, despite everyone's constant (and quite annoying) reassurances that it's normal, that she's doing quite well considering the extent of her injury.

But as frustrating as dealing with the wound has been, as much as she can't stand not being able to work, nothing could've prepared Regina for this horrible diet.

Not eating annoys her, makes her cranky and snappy and she hates everything.

Robin comes into her room, ever the perfect boyfriend, and deposits her lunch on the small bed table Ashley had kindly placed over her lap before she left five minutes ago. Regina stares at the sad lump of food in front of her with disdain. Oh, goodie, more mush.

"Chef Lucas made you mashed potatoes," Robin informs her, like it's not obvious from the looks of the yellowy mass on her plate.

"I can see that," she snaps, rolling her eyes and looking at the offending meal.

Robin is unfazed, moves closer and lands a kiss on her head, chuckling when she rolls her eyes again.

"You're adorable when you're hangry," he tells her.

"So you've said," she barks back.

"Come on, Regina," he insists, "just a few more days and you'll be able to eat proper food again."

"I hate this, get it away from me," she hisses, and the way Robin sighs before he removes the food from her sight makes her feel guilty. He's only trying to help, after all.

"I'm sorry," she sighs, "I'm just frustrated."

"I know, my love, but it'll be over soon," he insists as he places the plate on her nightstand. "Besides, if not eating is what's causing you the most grief after the ordeal you've suffered, I'm grateful."

There's a strange quality to his voice when he says that, a slight hitch in his breath that makes that mask of calm and collected attentiveness slip for a moment, and it's there again, the fear in his eyes, the despair she'd seen in him when she'd woken up after her surgery and he'd cried unnecessary apologies into her skin.

"Oh, Robin," she says, her voice breaking when she finally understands why he's been putting up with her moods without question or issue, how he really _is_ thankful that something as mundane as her crankiness over food seems to be the most dire consequence of her getting shot.

"You almost died on me, I'll suffer the brunt of your bad humor if it means you're alive and healthy and in my arms," he tells her sincerely, sitting on the bed facing her and cupping her cheek in his hand.

"I'm sorry I haven't been a very good patient," she says, leaning into the touch.

"Nonsense, you've been stellar," he insists, and she raises a skeptical eyebrow, making him chuckle.

"I've been a monster," she counters, and he leans closer, drops a kiss on her lips.

"But a very cute monster," he amends, and a small laugh bubbles out of her.

"I love you," she tells him, because now that she's started, she can't seem to stop, and it makes her so happy that she can finally say it, she doesn't think she ever _wants_ to stop.

"I love you, too," he returns, moving in close again, his lips lingering on hers this time, his tongue deepening the kiss when it peeks out to taste her, his quiet moan reverberating against her, making her blindly shove the bed table away and onto the floor as Robin half-sits, half-hovers above her, his weight a delicious comfort as it settles gently on her, careful not to touch her wound, and his lips are hungry, yet soft and lovely as he continues to kiss her.

His hand finds her left breast and squeezes, fingers rolling her nipple as he veers from her mouth to pepper kisses down her neck, his nose nudging away the fabric of her hoodie to seek out more skin.

"Oh, god," she gasps when he moves back up and licks at that sensitive spot behind her ear, grazes his teeth over the lobe, and she wants him so bad she can hardly breathe.

"Robin," she pleads, not really knowing what she's asking for, but certain he will know and deliver it.

"We can't," he mumbles, but his lips have yet to leave her neck, switch from one side to the other, hands finding the zipper of the hoodie and dragging it down.

"But I want to," she whines, her hands on either side of his head, fingers threading through his hair and pulling.

" _Mmm_ ," he moans, before protesting again. "Someone could come in."

"I don't care," Regina insists, pulling a bit harder at his hair and delighting in the satisfied groan he gives her, and she thinks she's won, that he's going to surrender, but then...

"Dr. Whale said no physical exertion until you're healed," Robin insists, breathing out a frustrated sigh as he moves away from her, leaving her hot and bothered right there on the bed, with his hands and his mouth and his cock so close and yet so far.

"I hate Whale," she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. Her hoodie is still open, zipper all the way down to her belly button, the fabric sitting on her naked breasts, exposing the valley between them to his devouring gaze.

"Tell you what..." he starts, shifting closer again and letting a hand trail down the center of her torso, making her flush with warmth as he continues, his voice rich and breathy, "you eat your scrumptious lunch, and in return, _I_..." he trails off, removing the hoodie completely and taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking at it for a moment before he lets it go and finishes his sentence, "will make sure it's worth your while."

He looks up at her then, winks and waits for her answer with a cheeky little smirk on his face, and oh that is _cheap_ , that is so, so cheap.

She'll take it.

"Hand me the plate," she replies immediately, waiting patiently as he drapes the discarded hoodie over her shoulders and then reaches for the plate, feeding her bits of mashed potato and laughing as he watches her try and get through her meal as fast as possible.

His way of _making it worth her while_ later proves to be not the orgasm she'd been hoping for (he's adamant about the no exertion thing, much to her chagrin), but rather a dinner roll he sneaks from the kitchen, claiming that he's cleared it with Dr. Midas over the phone and he's allowed her this one indulgence for today, and in normal circumstances, she'd probably strangle him for riling her up only to distract her with food, but as she takes a bite of bread and delights in the taste and texture of it, Regina can't find it in herself to be mad.


	8. At Home

**_Based on the prompt: Robin, Ashley, Belle, Ruby and Chef Lucas hanging in the kitchen while Regina and Roland make lasagna._**

* * *

"No, no, no, sweetie, the sauce goes first, remember?"

"Oops! Sorry," he apologizes immediately, scooping up the cheese he's just mistakenly dumped atop the noodles and promptly shoving it in his mouth, laughing when Regina gives him a suspicious look.

"You did that on purpose, young man," she accuses with a laugh.

"No I didn't!" Roland protests, but he's smiling guiltily, and Regina pounces, tickling him all over and making him laugh and laugh as he squirms in her grasp.

"Okay!" he admits between guffaws, "I did! I did! I'm sorry!"

"What's going on here?" Robin says as he wanders in with Ruby in tow, and the young brunette laughs when she sees Roland's face, bits of mozzarella sticking to his cheeks and mouth as he giggles.

"He was eating the cheese again, wasn't he?" she asks Regina knowingly, and she nods with a smile.

"Ah, the cheese monster has been unleashed," Robin jokes just as his hands find Regina's waist and pull her close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before he peeks at the offerings on the counter.

"Lasagna?" He asks, and she nods, smiling when his eyes widen and he smiles so big it lights up the room.

Ever since her body started accepting decent food again, she's been craving lasagna, but not just any lasagna, _her_ lasagna, with her own recipe and the secret ingredients she's never revealed to anyone, not even Robin.

Chef Lucas appears from the back door of the kitchen, carrying with her a few sprigs of fresh basil from the herb garden just outside and handing them to Regina, then giving Roland a mock-stern look when she realizes what he's been doing.

"We're gonna have to start hiding the cheese around here," she says, making Regina laugh, and then, because she notices Roland is starting to look a little guilty now that everyone has joked about his cheese-stealing habits, she sneaks a bit of mozzarella to him when Chef Lucas has her back turned. Roland looks conflicted, not knowing whether to take it or not, but then Regina winks, puts a finger to her lips in a _Shh_ gesture, and the boy gives her a conspiratorial grin, grabbing the cheese from her and shoving it into his mouth.

Robin takes a seat next to Ruby by the counter, clips one of the few basil leaves left on the sprig Regina's just placed there and brings it to his nose, closing his eyes as he breathes in the scent, something he likes to do whenever she's cooking this particular dish. She's never made lasagna at the White House before, though, and the familiar gesture makes her smile, makes the entire thing feel more domestic, homey, like they've been doing this forever within these particular walls.

"Regina, can I add the cheese now?" Roland asks later, as he watches her dollop a small amount of meat sauce over the noodles and spread it around, until it coats the entirety of the pasta.

"Yes, dear, add it in," she allows, and watches as he excitedly scatters grated mozzarella over the red, meaty goodness. She's already added her secret condiment to the sauce: basil leaves sauteed with red pepper flakes and garlic powder, and the smell of it all is mouthwatering.

"That looks amazing," Ashley says as she and Belle walk into the kitchen carrying certain dessert ingredients Chef Lucas had sent them out for earlier.

"Thanks," Regina replies, smiling at the young girl. Belle remains quiet, staring timidly at the space around her. She's shy around Regina, maybe even a little scared, but she hopes in time it'll lessen, once they've spent more days like this. It's a goal Regina has set for herself, to get to know her staff better, to be more involved in their lives and enjoy their friendship, if they're willing to offer it. For too long she's lived secluded from others, not letting anyone in besides Robin and Roland, and as much as she loves them, it's not healthy to limit her emotional interaction to them and them alone. It's time to turn over a new leaf, and making lunch for the people who've been on constant watch over her seems like the best way to start.

They eat in the spacious kitchen, choosing to avoid the protocols of sitting down at the table. Everyone moans and raves over the lasagna when they finally taste it, even Belle seems less shy as she congratulates Regina on a job well done, and Roland eagerly explains that it's all about how you place the cheese on the plate, prompting Chef Lucas to jokingly exclaim she's shocked there was any cheese left to put on the lasagna with him being in charge of it, and they laugh and share fun cooking anecdotes for the entirety of the meal.

Robin's hand is on her knee the whole time, thumb rubbing up and down as he listens to Ashley's stories of when she and Roland first started cooking together back in Maine. Regina moves her free hand down to her lap to grab Robin's, her heart full and happy. It feels right, to be here, surrounded by these people and their warmth, to laugh and joke and enjoy a nice lunch with family and friends.

Roland eats his portion and takes a bite out of Robin's as well, giggling when his father gasps in mock outrage and grabs his fork to steal a piece from Regina's own portion, making her glare at him.

"You just _stole_ from the President of the United States," she berates, moving her plate out of his reach as he chews the morsel with smug satisfaction, swallows and grins at her.

"It's alright," he tells her as he ducks his head and plants a kiss on her lips, "I have immunity."

"You two are so adorable, it's nauseating," Ruby says with a fond roll of her eyes, beaming at them when Robin thanks her. Regina blushes, then buries her face in his neck to hide the redness of her cheeks, and Robin grins, kisses her hair and rests his chin on the top of her head.

Chef Lucas's famous tiramisu follows the lasagna, and they spend another hour there, Robin feeding her bites of dessert and kissing her cheek as the others talk and laugh together.

Regina has never felt more at home...


	9. Confessions

**_Prompt: Mal telling Regina about killing Sidney and Regina's phone call with Roland_**

* * *

Mal's nervous. Has been since she came in, and Regina doesn't really understand what's going on, but sees her friend chance a glance at Robin as he walks away to use his phone.

"Mal, what is it?" she asks firmly.

"I have to tell you something, and I don't know how you're going to take it."

"What's wrong?" Regina prods, holding the blonde's hand and squeezing in reassurance.

"Nothing's wrong, just..." she sighs, taking a deep breath before she whispers, "I killed him."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Sidney, I... I killed him."

"Well, yeah, I know, they told me, self defense."

"No, that's the story I told everyone, but it's not what happened. We cornered Sidney in an alley, and your boyfriend beat the hell out of him, had him bleeding on the floor and wheezing all these threats, gloating about killing you... Robin was about to pull the trigger on him when Dr. Midas called to let us know you'd be okay."

It doesn't shock her to find this out. It worries her, sure, but it doesn't shock her. Robin has been feeling guilty for what happened, and she knows if given the chance, he would've finished the job himself.

"I shot Glass in the head, on purpose, and then we fed that self-defense story to the police and the rest of the Secret Service to get me off the hook."

"Mal," Regina gasps, distraught by the whole thing.

"I wasn't going to just let him walk away, Regina, and you know he would've ended up at some mental hospital, disguising his man-pain as insanity, I wasn't going to let that happen, not after what he did to you."

"But why subject yourself to that burden? Why carry that around in your conscience?"

"I don't feel guilty for doing it, so don't worry about my conscience," Mal scoffs, her voice softening as she adds, "I just wanted you to know the truth."

"I…" there are so many emotions running around in her head, so many conflicting thoughts she can't quite place, but it's all overpowered by one thing, relief, so instead of voicing all those clashing ideas, she settles for a heartfelt, "Thank you."

"Really? You're not mad at me?"

"I'm many things, mad isn't one of them. You protected me, Mal, and I can't say I'm sorry to see him go, but this is a dangerous thing you did, what if you get caught?"

"Everyone thinks he was about to kill us before I shot him, I doubt there will be questions on the matter, they're calling me a hero," Mal says in a bored tone, mockingly straightening her back and posing smugly, making Regina laugh a little.

"I know how adamant you are about political transparency and eradicating corruption, so if you feel like you have to tell the authorities what I've done, that's fine, I'll deal with it, I don't want to put you in a compromising position."

"I'm not telling anyone anything," Regina resolves after taking less than two seconds to think about it. Bottom line is, Mal did what she did to protect her and Robin, she won't condemn her for it.

"Really?"

"It'll be our secret," she says with a small smile, squeezing her friend's hand tightly, and Mal smiles back.

She takes a deep breath, and then her attention shifts to the words Robin is speaking on the phone, promising someone on the other end they can take care of her when she gets back to the White House, and her heart slams in her chest, anxiety building as she realizes who he's talking to.

"Is that Roland?" she asks, watching him nod. "Please, let me talk to him," she pleads, stretching out her hand to take the phone. Robin tells his son someone wants to speak to him, and then hands the device to Regina, her hand trembling as she brings it to her ear.

"Regina?" a timid voice asks on the other end.

"Hi, sweetheart," she gasps.

"Someone hurt you?" he replies, his voice shaking.

"It's okay," she assures him, "I'm okay." but the moment he hears her words, he bursts into tears, sobbing into the phone, making her heart shrivel up with the need to hold him as she comforts him.

"Oh, honey, don't cry, I'm here, I'm fine," she insists.

"You promise?" he asks.

"Yes, Roland, I promise, I'm just a bit banged up, but it's like your daddy said, you can take care of me when I go home, okay?"

"Okay," he sniffles into the phone, and "Does it hurt?" he questions then, sounding a little more calm now.

"Oh, yes, so I'm going to need lots of hugs and kisses and Disney movie nights when I get back so I can feel better. Are you up for that?"

"Yes," he mumbles, still sounding a little sad, but comforted now that he's heard her, and Regina feels a weight lifting off her own chest now that she's finally spoken to him.

"Okay, then I have a job for you, I'll be home in a few days, so you have to pick one movie for every day I miss, alright? And then when I get there, we'll watch one every night before bed, just the three of us, and in the mornings we'll make daddy get us apple juice while we stay in bed and act lazy for the day. How does that sound?"

The boy giggles slightly at her suggestion, tells her daddy hates being in charge of juice, and Regina smiles, tells him she's the queen, daddy has to listen to her, and Roland laughs and says okay.

"I've gotta go now, honey, but we'll call again tomorrow and you can tell me all about your day. Paint me a picture of the flowers in the greenhouse after breakfast, okay? So I can see it when I get back?"

"Okay, Regina. Love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart, I'll see you soon."

She hangs up the phone, and then Mal offers to cover for her and Robin so they can have a few minutes alone, adds some lewd joke before she leaves, making them both grin and shake their heads.

She beckons Robin closer, waits for him to settle beside her on the bed and snuggles up as close as she can, smiling when he drops a kiss on her forehead and tells her to rest.

She kisses his chest, taking in the scent of him and letting it lull her to sleep almost instantly, exhausted, but full of hope now that it's all over...


	10. Love at First Sight

**_Prompt: Regina meets baby Roland for the first time._**

* * *

He's late.

She's invited him over for dinner at seven sharp, and he's late.

"It's only been ten minutes, hon," Daniel tries to placate her with a smile, his hand pressing into the small of her back and running up and down in short strokes, "he'll be here."

"I just don't like to be kept waiting," she mutters, her tone a little haughty, and her husband laughs.

"The night I proposed to you, you said yes before I even asked you, just because you couldn't wait for me to get over my nerves. Believe me, I know how impatient you are," he jokes, leaning in to kiss her cheek before he walks to the living room.

A car pulls up just outside while she's staring out the window five minutes later, and she's just about ready to start berating her head-of-security-slash-friend for being late when she notices he's pulling a diaper bag out of the car, hitting his head on the roof of it and cursing as he leans inside to pick something else up, emerging with a bundle of blankets and his free hand rubbing at the sore spot on his head, and Regina feels the breath whoosh out of her.

"Regina? Everything okay?" Daniel says when he hears her gasp and sees her pace nervously around her foyer, his hand grabbing hers and giving it a light squeeze.

"He's here."

"Oh. That's good, though, right?"

"He, uh... he brought his baby."

She sees the moment realization hits, like the light has switched off behind his eyes. Robin doesn't know what he's just done, has no idea what kind of hellish pain he's unleashed, and they can't tell him, they're not at that stage in their friendship yet, Regina doesn't know if they ever will be.

She and Daniel tried for a child for years, with only three miscarriages and a lot of heartache to show for it, until one day they decided they wouldn't try anymore, wouldn't subject each other to that kind of suffering any longer. But now, now Robin's brought his baby to their house, and Regina feels that hole in her heart opening further, memories of horrible nights spent at the hospital haunting her with every breath.

"I can't do this," she says, her hands trembling, but Daniel, her kind, loving, wonderful Daniel, senses her hesitation before she even utters the words, grabs her hands and brings them to his lips, kissing her fingers and telling her it'll be okay.

"He's our friend, Regina, he was bound to introduce us to his son eventually."

"I can't do it, Daniel," she tells him, her eyes brimming with tears just as the doorbell chimes.

"Yes, you can," he counters, his hands now holding her face, eyes soft and caring, looking into hers. "This will be good for us, for you. Just give it a chance, okay?"

"Okay," she finally whispers a few seconds later, terrified when the sound of the doorbell interrupts their conversation for the second time, and she starts to fidget with her hair, to wipe away the few tears that have fallen down her cheeks.

"Why don't you take a moment, hm? Go up to bedroom, lie in bed for a minute, and then come down. I'll tell Robin you're just getting ready."

She nods, leans into his touch when he presses his forehead to hers, and then disappears up the stairs just as her husband opens the door and greets their friend on the other side.

It takes her about ten minutes in bed to gather herself, and another five or so to wash her face and fix her makeup, the cool water splashing on her skin soothing her as she takes deep breath after deep breath, reapplying mascara and red lipstick before she makes her way down the stairs, checking her reflection in the mirror by the hall before she ventures into the living room.

Robin is there, rocking his son as he talks to Daniel, both of them laughing at some joke or other, but Regina can't take her eyes off the bundled baby boy in his arms to pay enough attention to their conversation. He notices her staring, greets her with a cautious smile that tells her he feels guilty for bringing the child without letting her know.

"Sorry, I forgot my babysitter had the night off today, and I knew you'd have my hide if I cancelled."

"That's fine," she tells him, but she sounds stiff, off.

Robin doesn't notice (or maybe he just chooses not to), moving closer and peeling away a corner of the fluffy green blanket to show the baby's face to her.

"Regina, this is Roland. Roland, meet Regina."

He's... beautiful. Big brown eyes and short little wispy curls, his nose tiny and adorable, dimples so like his father's put on display when he stares at her curiously and smiles a gurgly smile, making a grin pull at the corners of her own lips as she looks at him.

"Can I hold him?" she finds herself asking, and Robin agrees immediately, passing the warm bundle into her arms and watching his boy as he squirms a bit at the change in position, then cuddles closer to Regina when she shifts his weight to hold him properly with one arm, free hand resting over the blanket by his belly.

And just like that, she's in love.

It's like magic, the way this child's soul and hers intertwine in that instant, how he can't stop staring at her and stretches out a hand to touch her face. She gives him her finger instead, which he grabs and pulls into his mouth, making her laugh.

"Hi, Roland," she says, and at the sound of her voice, the baby looks back up, releasing her finger and staring at her, entranced. And then he smiles, turns his little head and buries it into the blankets, making an adorable little sound that has her heart melting.

"He likes you," Robin tells her, grinning at her and caressing his son's cheek with his finger.

Daniel stands just behind him, catching Regina's eyes and smiling.

"Let's go grab you a soda, Robin," he offers, steering the other man away from her and to the kitchen, hanging back for a moment as he places his hand on her waist and a kiss on her cheek.

"You okay?" he asks her, with nothing but love and concern in his gaze.

"I am," she whispers, smiling tearfully at her husband before he turns with a nod and walks to the kitchen to join Robin, leaving her alone with the baby for a few precious moments.

She looks at him, his tiny mouth opening and closing, his eyes big and wide as he continues staring at her, and Regina raises her free hand again, runs the backs of her fingers over his hair, scratches a little at his belly, making him laugh as she rocks him gently, and she realizes then that despite all she's suffered, despite the countless nights of crying and the endless stream of treatments that never worked, life has still given her the chance to enjoy the love of a child, and she murmurs a reassurance, meant more for herself than her husband, who's now departed the foyer, but it settles her, has her smiling wider as she stares and stares at the darling baby boy she's holding.

"I'm just fine."


	11. Mother and Child

**_Prompt: First time Roland comes to Regina for comfort after a nightmare._**

* * *

It all starts with a sniffle she hears close by, and at first she thinks she might be imagining things, but then a second sniffle comes, accompanied by a tiny sob and heavy breathing, and she realizes it's not her mind that's conjured up the sound, but rather someone is there, a very specific, very dear someone.

"Roland, honey, is everything okay?" she whispers without opening her eyes, and then Roland tries to speak, chokes out another sob, and she wakes up fully, worried that something might be seriously wrong.

"I had a bad dream," he says, moving closer to the bed when she stretches out an arm to hug him where she lies on her stomach.

"What was it?"

"That bad man came back and tried to hurt you and daddy again," he says simply, and she mentally kicks herself, because she should've known this would happen.

It's been a month since she was given a clean bill of health, and they've all managed to heal and move on, but Roland is only five, and whatever fears have awoken in him can't be put down by the simple passing of time. He needs comfort.

"Oh, sweetheart, come here," she says, lifting her blanket and turning on her side to make room for him beside her, holding him close when he cuddles against her. Robin stirs behind her, seeks her out and drapes an arm over her waist, his nose pressing against her hair.

"S'vrything okay?" he asks in his sleep.

"Fine," Regina assures him, hugging Roland and kissing his forehead, her voice dropping to a whisper as she tells him, "It's okay, Roland, you're safe now, both daddy and I are here, okay?"

"Okay," he whispers back, still teary-eyed and frightened.

"Do you think you can get some sleep now?" she asks, breathing the question against his hair.

"I don't know, what if something bad happens again?" he insists, his voice shaky and sad. Regina sighs.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah," he whispers back.

"While I was in Philadelphia? At the hospital? The fairies came to visit me."

"They did?!" he's shocked, whisper-shouting his question as he pulls his head back to stare at her with wide eyes.

"Yes, they did, and they told me that thanks to you, they'll be watching over me from now on, over all of us."

"So nothing can hurt us anymore?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish that was the case, but the fairies can't protect us from everything. They're going to try, though, and they told me that you've been a very good boy, and that they were very proud of you."

"They are?" Roland asks, and Regina hums her assent.

Her words seems to calm him, and she allows herself a moment of self-pride before she shifts her focus back to her little boy.

"You promise nothing bad will happen if I go to sleep?"

"I promise," she replies vehemently, running her hand up and down his back as he presses closer still, his front flush against hers, his hands holding on so tight she can feel his short fingernails digging slightly into her skin over her pajama top, but she doesn't mind, clutches him back as hard as she can without hurting him.

When his breathing deepens, his grip loosening until he's good and relaxed as he sleeps beside her, she raises her head, looks down at him and watches him for a while, muttering soft, loving words in his ear whenever she sees him struggling and squirming in his slumber, until the discomfort stops and he's able to rest easy.

She wakes the next morning to Robin's lips on her shoulder blades, making their way up until they find her neck and linger there, his slurred _Good morning, my love_ , making her smile lazily into her pillow.

Roland is lying on his back beside her and snoring loudly, arms stretched above his head and legs open so wide one of them is dangling off the side of the bed. His mouth is half-open, and his Captain America shirt is rucked up after all his tossing and turning during the night, his belly button on display as he sleeps soundly, and Regina chuckles fondly at the sight.

"Nightmare?" Robin asks knowingly, kissing her neck as he holds her close, her back pressed against his chest as he peers over at his son from behind her. Regina nods, lets out a deep breath.

"He usually comes to you when he's scared," she tells him then, voicing the one thought that kept spinning around in her head since Roland woke her up last night.

"I suppose last night he needed _you_ ," Robin tells her, and she can feel his easy smile against her shoulder.

"Do you think he'll be okay tonight?" Regina asks him then, worried that Roland's rest will be disturbed by nightmares once again.

"If he's not, then it's a good thing he has his mom to chase the bad dreams away," Robin answers, his casual use of her new title making her heart soar as he sinks back down into the pillows and wraps his arms around her. She knows she should get up, she has a country to run, but decides to indulge in this lazy morning for a few more minutes, relaxing in bed with her love and _her son_...


	12. Bliss

**_Prompt: the morning after their first time._**

 ** _You can read their actual first time in Chapter 1 of this very same companion fic. I suggest you read/reread that one first and then this one, since both chapters sort of complement each other._**

* * *

Regina doesn't regret last night, not one bit, and the pleasant ache between her thighs tells her her body is quite grateful she decided to act on her attraction to Robin.

It'd been... wonderful, to say the least. He'd licked and sucked and kissed every inch of her, right there on her desk, turning her office into a place that would forever remind her of him, naked and gorgeous as he made her come, rather than a place of work and serenity. Regina can't say she minds.

He'd followed her up to her room after a few minutes of dozing off together in her chair, and then he'd gone home with a goofy smile on his face, one Regina shares at just this moment, when she heads downstairs after getting dressed for the day and finds him there, looking shy, yet somehow pleased with himself.

She grins, throws him a wink and then inconspicuously jerks her head to the side towards the kitchen, walking there and surreptitiously making her way inside not five minutes after he does.

"Hi," she says, her voice low and a tad nervous, hand rising from her side to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind her ear as she gives him a small smile.

"Hi," he returns, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You're early for work today," she remarks, looking at the clock and realizing he isn't obligated to turn up here at the governor's mansion for two more hours.

"Yeah, I uh, I wanted to see you before everyone else showed up," he murmurs, his own hand seeking out that same lock of hair that's fallen over her face again (it's too stubborn to stay put, and she'd be frustrated at it, if she wasn't so entranced by the way his fingers ghost over her cheek when he tucks it back in place behind her ear).

"Did you?" she whispers back, and without noticing she's moved closer, her body reacting to his like a magnet. His lips are suddenly there, so close to her own that it takes everything in her not to close the tiny gap between them, and she waits and waits for him to speak, to say whatever it is he wants to say about last night, but it seems he's as entranced by their proximity as she is, and all he does is hover his mouth over hers, look at her face and her body as his hands find purchase at her waist.

"Regina," he breathes, and _god_ , that's sexy, the way his Adam's apple keeps bobbing as he stares at her, how his voice goes low and raspy as he says her name.

She has things to do, should head to her office right now and get to work, figure out if the missing charity money was indeed deposited into the wrong account like they suspect, but then Robin licks his lips, his hands tightening their grip on her waist as he pulls her even closer, and she forgets all about her duties, too caught up in him, in that warm tingle that erupts all over her body at his touch.

She kisses him, tentative at first, a nervous press of her lips to his, and in seconds he's moaning, opening his mouth to welcome her tongue and moving his hands down to her ass to pick her up and turn them, pressing her against the wall as their kiss becomes wilder, sloppier, better...

Regina strolls into her office a little later than anticipated, her shirt buttoned haphazardly, her hair a little messy and lips a little swollen, and she can't help it, she smiles, eagerly awaiting her lunch break to see Robin again.


	13. Jealousy

**_Prompt: Robin and Regina fighting during her presidential campaign._**

* * *

Fundraisers are her least favorite part of the campaign. Dressing up in ridiculously expensive gowns and jewels, parading around fancy hotel venues and diplomatically begging the rich and powerful for donations, all while they secretly try to find the best way to stab each other in the back.

Regina hates every bit of it, but it's a necessary evil, as Sidney keeps telling her, a definite must in the list of tasks she has to complete if she wants to be president.

She can usually handle herself just fine at these events, can charm her way into many a wealthy businessman's good graces, but tonight it's different, and not just because the election is on the line.

It's different because her secret lover is here, watching her.

It's not that he hovers or coddles her, not at all, but this is a very nasty part of the campaign trail, and she'd rather Robin not see her smiling and fluttering her eyelashes at all these rich old men.

As it turns out, the man who starts the entire incident is not old, or rich.

He's famous, though, a high-profile political analyst by the name of Greg Mendell who friend-of-a-friended his way into the guest list, and now mingles with the high and mighty, pretending to be one of them as he offers Regina his support on the campaign, provided she do something for him.

"And what would that be?" she plays along, trying to remain polite while keeping her distance, the light and easygoing demeanor she saves for these events now gone and replaced with a wariness she's never felt before.

"Well, you see, I have a room at this hotel," Mendell tells her, moving closer and trailing a finger up her naked arm, his breath so close it makes her body shake with fear, her stomach rolling at his sleazy proposal when he adds, "maybe you can come with me... we could get to know each other better, find out what our strengths and weaknesses are… in _every_ subject."

"I beg your pardon?" Regina gasps, wrenching herself away from him, but he's too quick, and everyone seems too busy with impressing each other to notice that she's in trouble, the man's clammy hand closing around her wrist as he pulls her toward him.

"You heard me. I have friends in high places who could help you become the next president. That's what you want, isn't it? I'm sure we could come to some sort of... understanding. I've never slept with a president before, it would be interesting to try it."

"How is it that you're not utterly embarrassed by this ridiculous display?" she snaps back, and she sees anger flare in his eyes.

"You have ten seconds to let go of my arm," she hisses menacingly when he grabs her again, "or I promise you'll regret it."

"Oh, feisty. Good, I like it when they're wild," he smiles, licking at his yellowing teeth.

"Eight... seven..." Regina mutters.

"Six... five, I'm quite excited to see how this goes," Mendell joins in, "three, tw-"

She hears rather than sees the cracking of his jaw as Robin lands a punch on him, sending the man tumbling to the floor and clutching his face as he wails in pain.

"Stay away from her!" he barks at the slimy man, and Regina is mortified.

She feels Robin's hands steer her away when everyone takes notice of what's happened, and Greg is spewing threats from his spot on the floor, telling her she'll never make it to the presidency, and it has anger bubbling up in her, to the point where she turns back and smiles.

"Oh, Mr. Mendell, that's where you're wrong. You see, when I become president -and I _will_ become president-, I'll make sure little weasels like you get what they deserve," she says in a low, yet completely pleasant tone, strolling away with her head held high, until she and Robin go out the door of the ballroom and down the hall towards the bathrooms, where the security cameras can't spy on their every move.

"What were you thinking?!" she hisses at him when they've made sure they're secluded enough and no one will find them.

"Excuse me?! He was hurting you!"

"I was handling it!" she snaps.

"Are you seriously fighting me because I defended you?!" Robin barks back, and _ugh_ , he is so insufferable sometimes.

"Do you not realize what this will look like?! What people will think when the press finds out my security chief beat up a famous political personality?!"

"Is that really what you're worried about?! He could've hurt you, Regina!"

"I told you I was handling it! This is a hard endeavor as it is, Robin, I don't need your jealousy to get in the way of my winning this election!"

"Well, pardon me for trying to keep some bastard's hands off my girlfriend."

"Oh, no, don't try to make me look like the bad guy here, you overstepped your bounds, you made a man _bleed_ in the middle of my fundraiser, for crying out loud!"

"I'm out of here, I can't talk to you when you're like this," Robin says, his tone low, disappointed.

"You mean when I'm being _sensible_?!" she bites back, but he's not listening, walks away and leaves her there to stew in her frustration, angry tears threatening to spill and ruin her makeup.

She doesn't let them, though, fixes the few hairs she finds out of place and reapplies some lipstick before she heads out, walking back into the ballroom with a smile on her face, pretending not to notice the waiters hastily cleaning the small bits of blood smeared on the floor where the altercation took place.

She apologizes to her guests, explaining away Robin's attack as the actions of a very protective head of security, and then engages David in conversation. Minutes later, they're joined by some potential investors, all of whom jokingly offer to donate big bucks to her campaign if she promises to keep all her events this interesting. They make light of it, laugh and discuss proper issues and actual donations, and she starts to think she may salvage the night after all.

And then it all comes crashing down with one look towards the bar.

Robin is there, sitting in a stool and nursing a Scotch, but that's not what throws her. What makes her blood boil is the cheaply dressed blonde running a hand up and down his arm, her fake smile and fake boobs taking up his line of vision as she whispers something in his ear, and he laughs and shakes his head, turning to face the other side of the room, trying to avoid her as he sips his drink.

Not that that stops little Miss America from trying to get his attention, she simply pageant-walks her tiny body to the other side as well, so that once again, she's face to face with Robin. _Her_ Robin.

Regina sees red.

One second she's standing there making small talk with David and the investors, and the next she's stalking towards the bar, her champagne glass held so tightly in her hand she's surprised she doesn't crush it. Suddenly she's there, and both her boyfriend and the annoying brat trying to seduce him are oblivious to her presence, but Regina doesn't stop to wait for them to notice her, rather walks straight to the girl and 'accidentally' bumps into her so hard she actually makes her slide off her stool, and then, just to top things off, she uses the not-so-accidental collision to tip her glass, spilling her drink all down the front of the other woman's very trashy and very expensive pink dress, Robin's eyes widening, half-murmuring an apology as the younger woman walks away in a rage, after Regina offers a smug _Oops,_ that sounds anything but contrite.

He rises, walks off to the opposite door, not looking back to see if she follows, but she does, her steps hurried as she tries to catch up with him, until they're back near the bathrooms, away from the cameras once again.

"Why the hell did you do that?!"

"Oh, please, the little princess had it coming," she says, like it's no big deal.

"Did she?" Robin asks, and he's angry, so very angry, and- no, no, not angry... amused... he's, he's _laughing_ , actually laughing.

"She was all over you!" Regina defends, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest as she continues, "What was I supposed to do? Just stand there and let her touch yo- _Oh_."

It hits her then, why this is so funny to Robin. She's just reacted in the exact, same way he did earlier, when Greg Mendell was getting handsy with her.

"Yes. Oh," he mocks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at her with a smirk that she wants to kiss right off.

So she does.

His hands find her waist almost immediately, pushing her back against the wall as she assaults his mouth with hers, her tongue tasting the Scotch on his and moaning as she savors it.

"Just for the record," he gasps when they break apart for air, one hand moving from her waist to her breast, kneading the swell slowly and firmly, making her gasp as he keeps talking, "you have nothing to worry about."

Leave it to him to turn some hot and heavy kissing into an emotional experience.

"Don't I? She was young, and pretty," she counters, still basking in his attentions.

"And drunk, and obnoxious, and most importantly, _not_ _you_ ," he rasps against her neck, wrapping both arms around her waist and pressing her flush against him, his mouth back on hers a second later, teeth nipping playfully at her tongue when she licks his upper lip.

"I only want you, Regina," he breathes into her ear, rocking his hips against hers, his erection straining against his pants as he presses it even closer to her dress, so much she can feel his hardness as it slides up and down against her thigh. "You're the only one that does this to me," he insists, and _god_ , she wants him so badly.

They can't, not here, they'll take too long and she'll be missed, and if he accidentally tears her dress...

But it seems he's already devised a plan, and he's shamelessly dry-humping her against the wall, licking and kissing her neck and jaw and mouth, his tongue hot and wet and perfect, hands drifting down to her ass and groping, his satisfied grunts mixing with her moans as he keeps thrusting against her, the seam of his trousers hitting her clit just right over the layers of fabric, the friction causing pleasure to slither up her body in the most delicious way.

It doesn't take her long to come, riled up as she is by the champagne and the adrenaline of this whole ordeal, and Robin grunts and thrusts a few more times before he exhales her name in a bout of ecstasy, coming in his pants just as she starts to come down from her own high.

"We should fight more often," he chuckles into the skin of her neck, making her laugh as she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw, thankful for his hands as they hold her upright, her legs still too shaky from her orgasm to do the job themselves.

"Mmm," she agrees, cradling his cheek in her hand to bring his face to hers, whispering one tiny caveat that has him nodding eagerly.

"Less clothes next time, okay?"

His tone is teasing, yet hot and breathy as he answers, his lips hovering hungrily over hers.

"As her majesty wishes."


	14. Headlines

**_Prompt: Robin and Regina's reactions when they realize the entire country ships them._**

* * *

Out of all the scenarios she'd conjured in her head in the days prior to her press conference, this was the wildest one. And yet it's happening.

It starts slow, subtle, just a few smiles here and there when she walks by the staff, some cheering from the public whenever Robin is near her at certain events, and then one night, as they're watching the news while cuddled up in bed, she sees the full extent of it right there on her TV screen.

 _"It's been five weeks since President Mills admitted to being in a relationship with former Head of the Secret Service, Robin Locksley, and support for their romance is sweeping the nation! We have our own Glinda South out on the streets of Washington to garner some reactions. Glinda!"_

The camera switches to a petite blonde with a bright white coat, surrounded by people cheering and holding up signs that read _Mills x Locksley_ and _Love at the White House!_ All covered in hearts and kisses. This is unbelievable.

 _"Yes, Walsh! I'm right here with some of President Mills's most ardent supporters, let's see what their thoughts are on the matter!"_ the woman adds cheerfully as she passes the mic to one of the enthusiastic bystanders.

"Are they really-?" Robin starts, but Regina cuts him off with a loud _Shh!_

"I wanna hear what they say," she tells him, her eyes intent on the TV while her hand nervously grasps his on her lap, and she thinks she hears him chuckle, but doesn't pay enough attention to be sure, too concentrated on the young girl and older couple being interviewed.

 _"We're originally from Kansas, we're here on vacation with our niece,"_ the woman says, _"but everywhere we've been to, people seem excited about President Mills and Agent Locksley."_

 _"Do they, now?"_

 _"Yes, and honestly, so are we. She looked so in love when she admitted her feelings to the world..."_

 _"And he is so dreamy, isn't he? The dimples, the accent. Plus, he saved her life!"_ the reporter prods, and it has the woman's husband speaking into the microphone.

 _"She's a good president, she deserves to be happy."_

Regina feels gratitude at the man's words, and feels Robin squeeze her hand just a little tighter.

 _"What about you? What's your name, dear?"_ this Glinda reporter asks their niece, and the girl is shy, but answers after her aunt places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

 _"Um, Dorothy Gale."_

 _"Ah, Dorothy, do you have something you'd like to say to President Mills?"_

 _"Just that I hope she gets better soon."_

 _"Nothing about her being in love with her security man?"_

 _"Um, congratulations, I guess?"_

 _"That's nice,"_ answers Glinda before moving on to someone else in the crowd, a young woman dressed in green, with blond hair twisted into a bun atop her head.

 _"What about you? What are your thoughts on President Mills and Agent Locksley's relationship? Do you think they're in it for the long haul?"_

 _"I do!"_ the woman answers brightly, and Regina can detect her Australian accent when she adds, _"they're just so cute!"_

Great, now she's _cute._

 _"Aren't they, though?!"_ Glinda gushes.

 _"They are! It's like it's written in the stars! I'm so happy for them."_

 _"Well, there you have it, Walsh! We all just can't get enough from Robgina! Back to you!"_

The camera switches back to the anchor, and Regina rolls her eyes.

"We're a one-name couple, now?" she scowls, and Robin laughs.

"Seems like it."

"Oh, god, we're Brangelina," she groans, smacking her face with her palm.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he counters as he moves closer, kisses her jaw as he adds, "you're much more beautiful than Angelina."

She smacks his arm, making him utter an amused, "Hey!" before he sinks into the covers, dragging her with him, rolling them so that she's splayed above him, their bodies aligned and warm against each other, sheets wedged between them as she giggles in his embrace.

"They like us," she says once her laughter has died down, her breaths shallow as she looks down at him, his blue eyes sparkling, her hair falling in a short curtain around them, his hand finding its way under the hem of her white tank top, finger rubbing circles on the skin of her lower back.

"They do," he concurs.

"It's weird," she half-whines, and Robin chuckles again.

"Yes, it is, but I'm glad they want you to be happy, that they trust _me_ to make you so."

"You do make me so, Robin, I've never been happier than I am with you and Roland."

"I feel the same way," he replies simply, "I love you so much, Regina."

He's so sincere in his words, his voice breathy and low as the hand on her back drifts out from under her top and finds her face, resting by her cheek as she returns the sentiment with a smile and a whispered _I love you, too._

She kisses him, delights in the soft presses of his lips on hers, and decides that maybe, she doesn't completely hate this _Robgina_ thing.


	15. Comfort

**_Prompt: PDA_**

* * *

She has nightmares about it all the time, foggy dreams of dark alley corners and a bleeding, panting Sidney pointing a gun at her, only to disappear just as he pulls the trigger and reappear in a crowd she finds herself addressing from a stage, her wound gushing blood even as she starts mouthing words she never remembers upon waking.

Last night's though, last night's was far more terrible than all the others, because this time, when she'd felt the phantom pain near her stomach, seen the blood there, she'd started screaming for help, begging the crowd to save her, looking up from her gaping bullet wound and realizing that the reason no one came to her aid, was because every single person in the audience now had Sidney's face, like evil clones of the man, just watching her bleed to death and choke on her own sobs.

She'd been so distraught in her sleep that her violent tossing and turning had made her land a hard kick to Robin's shin (quite the unpleasant way to wake up in the middle of the night, she'd wager). He'd had no qualms about his disturbed rest, though, hadn't even tried to go back to sleep after he'd calmed her down. Instead, he'd held her trembling body in his arms against him, her head buried in his chest, and he'd rocked her until her crying had subsided, squeezed her tight when her breathing had finally settled, and then proceeded to kiss away the tears still clinging to her cheeks.

But this particular nightmare is new, and she's not used to the effect it has on her, how it tilts her entire emotional balance, and she finds herself looking frantically around every corner, expecting Sidney to be there, gun in hand and ready to erase her from this world.

It's ludicrous, of course. He's dead, gone, unable to harm her ever again, and she _knows_ this, so why the hell is it so hard for her to let go of the image of him, laughing maniacally as he watches her bleed on the stage floor, his hundreds of doppelgangers laughing right along with him?

She doesn't have time to ponder the answer though, because she has a very public engagement to attend today, right outside her very home, at 8AM sharp.

She's meeting with the families of the agents that were killed in Philadelphia, victims of Isaac and Sidney's reckless shooting. Her palms are sweaty, the sun too bright, and Regina can't focus on anything Tuck is telling her, all because she's still hung up on that stupid nightmare.

The press is just down the entrance steps, a small group of them hand-picked by Elsa to photograph and report on the reception, and all cameras are pointed at her, waiting for the event to start so they can begin snapping pictures left and right. It's more than she can handle, and why is it more than she can handle? She's been through worse, and yet the bloodcurdling terror that had bloomed in her after that horrible dream is still there, haunting her, impairing her senses.

"Madam President?" Tuck murmurs, trying to bring her out of her fear-induced trance, but he sounds far away, dull and gurgly, like he's underwater rather than standing next to her. She feels cold sweat break out on her forehead, her breathing becoming more labored with every passing second.

"It's okay to be nervous," Tuck tries again, and Regina almost laughs. _Nervous._

She'd been _nervous_ when she'd had to tell Robin she couldn't have children. Nervous when the elections happened and she had to wait for the results. She'd been nervous as recently as last week, when she'd told the world about her feelings for Robin. Right now, she's not nervous at all.

She's _terrified_.

She can feel it, the panic attack brewing inside her, gripping at her every cell and forcing her to relive the paralyzing pain and fear, the absolute despair she'd felt when that bullet hit her.

"It's going to be just fine, ma'am, you'll see," Tuck tells her, gently placing a reassuring hand on her arm, but it's the wrong hand, the wrong words, the wrong everything. She wants Robin.

She's become addicted to his touch, Regina realizes, to the calming feeling of having his hand pressed against her back, to the slow, deep breaths he takes as he coaxes her to do the same. She _needs_ him, needs his soft-spoken reassurances and the welcome scrape of his stubble against her skin when he nuzzles her neck, his very presence making her feel safe during these... episodes.

The cars have started pulling in, the press corps flashing their cameras as they take picture after picture of the arriving families, throwing questions here and there when the parents, wives and husbands of the deceased form a small circle at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her to greet them.

Regina is rooted to the spot, frozen in fear as she stares at them with wide eyes, and suddenly their faces are no longer their own, but Sidney's, repeated over and over again in every single person around her, and her chest hurts, her throat closes up, and she tries her best to hide the crippling anxiety, but judging by the concerned looks everyone is giving her, she's not doing a very good job.

Suddenly, the warm, familiar touch of Robin's hand is on her back, rubbing up and down soothingly as he leans in close.

"I'm here, my love, I'm here," he tells her, breathing deeply and murmuring reassurances into her ear, and it's like she can feel the tension slipping away, recoiling and fleeing from Robin's loving caresses, his soft words pouring over her like a balm to her soul, and suddenly her throat isn't so tight, relaxes enough to let her take a proper breath and follow the rhythm of his, their inhales and exhales synchronizing with each other and evaporating her pent-up consternation.

Robin's hand abandons her back as he takes a few steps forward, his other hand loosely clasped in hers as he stretches his arm to avoid breaking contact, and addresses her guests.

"She's just a bit under the weather, nothing to worry about, she'll be with you in a moment," he excuses, then turns to her, his back to the small crowd, the press standing off to the side, and if she wasn't so trapped in her own head, she'd hear the frantic clicking of the cameras, but as it is, she just focuses on breathing, on the feel of Robin's hands holding hers with a gentleness that is completely at odds with the firm and calloused texture of his fingers, an intoxicating sensation that makes her think of cloudless skies and waves hitting the shore, especially when he starts to rub his thumb over her hand in soothing circles, coaxing her out of her state.

When she finally regains control of her mind and body, the first thing Regina does is look up into his eyes, her own welling up with tears, one or two of the traitorous bastards leaking down her cheeks.

"It's alright," he comforts, "you're okay."

"It's that stupid nightmare, I can't get rid of it, Robin. What if it's always like this from now on?" she asks in a shaky breath, but he's already shaking his head, offering her a small smile before he ducks his head, to catch her eyes when she looks away.

"I won't let that happen, I promise," he vows, and somehow, she believes him, believes that he'll do everything he can to chase away her every fear, and she's so thankful, so damn lucky to have him, to be the person he decided to love like this. In that moment, she loves him more than ever, because he's putting aside the entire world, just to make sure she's alright.

The reception goes quite well after that, Robin's constant touches and whispered words of affection keeping her grounded and with her heart full, happy, and when pictures show up online that very night, of him holding her and kissing away her terror, the caption _PRESIDENT MILLS AND BOYFRIEND ROBIN LOCKSLEY SHARE INTIMATE MOMENT AT WHITE HOUSE DOORS_ emblazoned in hot pink letters at the top of the article, Regina simply shrugs, looks back at the man she loves, sprawled on the bed with a book in his hands, and smiles...


	16. Revelation

**_Prompt: The moment Regina realizes she's in love with Robin_**

* * *

Regina's not used to someone taking care of her.

It's always been the other way around. She'd been the one to help her father through his issues with mother, and Daniel through his cancer, and Roland through his teething. Hell, her entire career revolves about taking care of others, an entire state of them, to be exact.

So when the fever hits, when she collapses in the middle of a meeting and wakes up in Robin's arms as he lays her gently in bed, she feels... odd. Can't understand why he'd be willing to put up with her when she's all sniffly and bloated, when she can't do anything but lie there and sleep.

He tells her he doesn't need her to do anything, that all he wants is to be there for her and help her get better, that her smile is more than worth dealing with her snot and her tears and the smelly breath that comes with her strep. He reschedules his briefings, has Ashley take care of Roland for a couple extra hours in the evenings while he stays at the mansion to tend to her, even dismisses the staff early so he can stay and properly tuck her in without worrying about prying eyes, simply because he wants to do it. In everything he does, he puts her first.

Regina's not used to someone putting her first.

He makes her tea and brings her soup, makes sure she takes her antibiotics at exactly the right time, and has Roland visit often to keep her spirits up (he'd even had the boy bring Regina flowers yesterday, a beautiful bouquet of gerbera daisies that had quite obviously come from Robin himself and not the child that delivered them), and it makes her giddy that he's going to such lengths to brighten up her sick days.

He's constantly making sure she's comfortable, wraps her up in her favorite blankets, keeps her up to date on state business and informs her that Ursula is doing a splendid job of keeping things going... he even sits by her on the bed and presses a wet cloth to her forehead, to help bring the fever down. It's not something she needs, not when the meds seem to finally be working, but Robin does it anyway, and she has to admit it really is nice, to feel the moist touch of the cloth cooling her clammy, too-warm skin.

Five days into her bout of horrible health, it happens.

She wakes up in her bed, surrounded by the fresh pine scent of him, his hand running up and down her back in soothing motions, soft lips pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning," he greets,, his voice low and raspy and perfect, and "I decided to sneak in early so I could check on you," he adds, his eyes shining with nothing but devotion and tenderness as he pushes her hair away from her face and then rests his hand against her cheek.

And just like that, it hits her.

She loves him. Loves his dimples and his smile and his heart of gold, the way it beats for Roland, for her. She loves that he likes to smell her hair, loves that he gives her Eskimo kisses when she's sleepy, loves that he can make her writhe and gasp and come, loves the way he kisses her, loves that he's pushed through the obstacle of grief and moved across an entire ocean just so he could give his son the best possible life. She loves his stubbornness, how he fights her on things he doesn't agree with, how he's not afraid to stand up for what is right, loves that he protects her but doesn't coddle her, that he can look at her when she's sick and miserable and in dire need of a shower, and still think her beautiful.

They've only been together for four months, haven't gotten to the _I love you_ part yet, and she's afraid even if he were to finally say the words, she wouldn't be able to return them, too scared by the future to voice her feelings. But as he returns the tired smile she gives him, a particular thought hits, and hope blooms in her chest at the realization...

He's the one.


	17. Hungry

**_Prompt: Regina prepares a special dinner and evening for Robin after a long week working with the VP out of state._**

* * *

He's barely been gone for three days, and Regina has never missed him more.

They've spent longer than this apart from each other, but usually she's the one who travels, and she's so busy during her trips that she doesn't have nearly as much time to miss him as she does now. She wonders if this is how he feels whenever she has to go away on official presidential business.

How he survives it, she'll never know.

She's so used to having him by her side at all times, and she knows it was necessary, that when the UK ambassador to the UN specifically requests that you join the Vice President for their meetings, you can't refuse him, but the fact that Robin is all the way in New York makes her ache regardless.

Roland is as bummed as she is, spends his mornings in school and his afternoons with Ashley, having dinner with Regina almost every night and nearly always discussing how much he misses his daddy.

On the day of his arrival, after a full week out of state, she decides to welcome him home with dinner and something sexy he can strip right off of her, texts him from her old phone to let him know she'll meet him in the bedroom, and he immediately replies with some very naughty insinuations, making her grin and text back a cheeky reply.

 **RL:** _The bedroom, huh? Got something special for me, Madam President?_

 **RM:** _Guess you'll just have to come up here and see._

 **RL:** _I'm starving._

 **RM:** _No worries, I've got dinner, too. x_

 **RL:** _I wasn't talking about food ;) Be home soon, love._

She blushes with his last message, her thighs squeezing together in anticipation.

It's a very difficult task to buy sexy underwear when you're the President of the United States, and as close as she's become with her stylist, this isn't a favor she can ask of Ruby, so instead, she rummages through the countless bags of new clothes the brunette brings her to try on every week (not that Regina ever gets around to it), and lucky her, there's a giant bag from La Perla hidden under all the Versace and Dolce & Gabbana (Ruby has categorized her purchases by country, with all the Italian designers on one end, the French on another, and the Americans right in the middle).

She doesn't find much in the bag. There's about a dozen of the store's signature boxes, all containing underwear that looks cute and comfy, but Regina doesn't want to look cute and comfy tonight. As she opens the very last box, though, her troubles are over. There, under the off-white tissue paper, is a lace slip, black and sheer and tight, exactly what she needs.

When Robin finally enters the bedroom, immediately dumping his bag and jacket on the chair by the door, Regina's on the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she pushes herself up straight enough for him to take in the sight of her.

She's wearing the slip, with absolutely nothing underneath, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back when Robin groans and stalks over to her, his hands immediately grasping her waist and pressing her fiercely against him.

"God, I missed you," he says against her lips before he kisses her, tongues meeting almost immediately.

"I missed you, too," she breathes into emptiness when he ducks down to lick and suck at her neck, her head lolling back as she lets him devour her.

"You look amazing," he tells her, mouth covering her breast and teasing a nipple with his tongue over the lace, hands dipping under and pulling the fabric up her thighs as he goes, but she stops him right there, because if she lets him continue, he'll make this about her, and that's not her plan for the night.

Robin lands on the bed with a thud as she pushes him, and then she slowly crawls up his body, pressing herself close, dragging her breasts over his chest as his hands run up her back and down to her ass, groping and kneading when she leans in and kisses him again, deep and slow, his satisfied moan making her flush with warmth as she rolls her hips over his, feels his cock hardening at the action.

"I've been dreaming about this all week," she confesses, making him chuckle as his grip on her tightens, guiding her so that her clit is pressed right against the tip of his cock over his clothes.

"Did you, now?" Robin asks, "And what exactly did you dream about? Tell me."

He likes it when she talks, when she describes what she wants to do to him and how, but truth be told, Regina has always been shy about saying those things out loud. She's texted them to him, though, more so over the past few days, when he wasn't there to keep her warm at night.

"How about I show you instead?" she ventures, teeth catching his earlobe, her tongue tracing a line over his jaw right after, until she reaches his mouth again and licks at his upper lip in that way that makes him grunt and thrust against her.

As expected, that's exactly what he does, exhales her name as he bucks his hips into hers, his skin warm and dewy and salty where she tastes it, her teeth grazing his pulse as she blindly starts to undo the buttons of his shirt.

He gasps, writhes under her, and she has missed this so much, the way she can rile him up so easily, seeing how much he wants her...

"You are never leaving my side again," she jokingly commands, and he whispers back an answer that makes her grin.

"As you wish, Madam President."

His pants are next to go, Regina fumbling with the belt, button and zipper until she's able to free him from it, his cock semi-hard as it springs free of its confines, the tip grazing her lips with the movement, and just that one split second of contact has Robin groaning, closing his eyes and fisting his hands in the sheets. He's a little on the larger side, and _thick_ , so Regina always has to work up to taking him in her mouth completely, teases him a little, first.

She takes him in hand, applies the slightest hint of pressure, and watches as he unravels beneath her, exhaling a harsh _Fuck!_ that makes her feel sexy, hot, incredible.

She scoots down, then, far enough on the bed that she's settled between his legs, the tip of her nose skimming his shaft as her tongue follows, until she swirls it around his tip and then wraps her lips around it, sucking hard and without warning, surprising him and delighting in the choked "Oh, god!" he utters as she continues, very slowly taking him in deeper and deeper, until her lips reach his base and the tip of him hits the back of her throat, making her swallow reflexively around him, sucking again, soaking him in her spit as she starts to slowly back away, releasing him.

His hand is now in her hair, tugging and scratching affectionately as he watches her, and her eyes do not leave his, intent as they are on taking in his every reaction, his every moan and gasp as she bobs her head up and down, up and down, swirling her tongue around him when she releases him once more and then licking away the little bead of precum at the tip, giving him an evil little smirk, one that has him closing his eyes and smacking his head back against the pillows.

"Fuck, you're so sexy, my love," he rasps, rolling his hips slightly, wordlessly asking her to keep going, and she's all too happy to comply, loves the way he completely surrenders to her. It makes her feel powerful in a way nothing else ever has, which is saying something considering her current job.

"That's it, love, that's it," Robin urges as she takes him in her mouth again, her hand pumping at his base while she sucks his tip, and "god, your mouth is a wonder," he tells her, a few grunts escaping him when she goes all the way down again.

Regina _Mmm_ s around him, basks in the rapid circling of his hips when she does, and slurps and licks when he bobs out of her mouth again, his tip bouncing against her lips as she looks up at him.

"Shit!" he gasps when she licks her way up and around his tip, "Yesss, just like that, jus- _ah_!" he's turning into an incoherent mess as she wraps her lips around his hard length again, and she loves it, revels in it, in the primal sounds bubbling out of him, sucks harder to elicit more, and he's no longer talking, rather breathing heavily as he keeps a hand on her hair, tugging and releasing, tugging and releasing, nails scraping gently, deliciously against her scalp, and then she feels him trying to push her head back, breathing her name and urging her to wait.

"If you keep going, I may not last long enough t-" he starts, but she's shaking her head, already shutting up his bashful admission.

"We have all night, babe," she assures him, "and I want you to come while I do this."

"Are you sure?" he asks, then hisses when she pulls back his foreskin and licks at the ridge at his tip, sucking it into her mouth hard as she looks up at him through her lashes.

It seems her actions answer his question, and he's fighting so hard to keep his eyes open, to not let them roll back in ecstasy just so he can continue watching her as she sucks him, hollowing out her cheeks as she moves her mouth up and down on his shaft, releasing him, warm and glistening, and muttering a "Tell me how it feels," before going in again, coating him in her spit as she circles her tongue around him inside her mouth.

"Amazing," Robin answers, "warm and wet and- _mmh_!- perfect..."

He trails off on a moan, jerks his hips into her mouth as she keeps sucking, hard, tongue teasing his foreskin as she pulls back and grasps him in hand, trails a line of kisses down to the base and back up, then brings him into her mouth again, sucking fast and hard until he's screaming her name amidst curses, his hand clutching and relaxing in her hair.

"I... I- oh, _fuck_! come here, my love, I need to kiss you," he begs, making her stop her current actions before she crawls up his body, letting Robin's hands guide her until she's positioned just above him, her poor excuse of a dress rucking up to her waist with the movement, fabric wedging between them as she presses herself close, sliding wetly over his cock as he palms her breasts and kneads the gentle swells.

Her mouth is sloppy and wet from its sinful activities down below, but that's no obstacle for Robin. In fact, it's quite the opposite, seems to turn him on even more as his lips take hers fiercely, tongue tangling eagerly with hers for long seconds of hot kisses before he stops for a beat, then lifts her a little and buries his face in her breasts, finding one nipple and sucking it hard over the lace until it's pert and slick, then moves to the other to do the same, and Regina begins to rock her hips a little faster, feeling the very tip of his cock graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh on every pass.

" _Mmm_ ," he moans, "more... please, Regina... your mouth, I..." he mumbles, and she starts moving down again to continue what she'd been doing, indulging in a few seconds of his lips and his tongue before she continues, sucking kisses down his chest and stomach, until her mouth finds and wraps around his cock again, taking up the suction and rhythm that had him squirming under her just minutes ago.

It doesn't take him long to be groaning and grunting again, jerking his hips when the tips of her hair ghost over the sensitive skin there, his fingers burying themselves in her tresses again as he watches her, licking his lips and biting the bottom one when she gives him a smile with his cock still in her mouth.

Regina focuses on the task at hand, licking and sucking halfway down his shaft in quick passes, and then, when his breathing is shallow and hurried, she takes him in all the way, deep and without warning.

"Oh, fuuuuuck," he utters as she does, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to keep them open and on her, but Regina keeps her own gaze on him regardless, watching him come apart under her attentions.

She does it again, swallows around him to take him in as deep as she can go, but she does it a bit too fast this time, and her gag reflex acts up, her eyes watering as she chokes a little, and Robin's hand on her hair starts rubbing soothingly at the back of her neck, pushes her hair aside so he can see her face better, pushing her away a bit so that his cock slowly leaves her mouth, giving her a minute to breathe and relax.

"Alright?" he asks, his voice low and raspy. Regina nods, smiles at him, and then gives him a few lazy strokes with her hand as she licks his tip, allowing herself a moment's rest.

The slight lines of worry on his face after her little mishap disappear when she resumes her activities, sucking at him again, her hand grabbing him and pumping in time with the bobbing of her head, mouth dripping wetly onto his base as she keeps at it, moaning around him and watching, fascinated, as he unravels.

"I'm- _Ah_! I'm gonna... Oh, _fuck_!"

He comes with warm spurts into her mouth, and she swallows every last drop, giving him one final lick as he pops out of her lips and taking him in hand, gently stroking him to prolong the sensations, until he's spent and jelly-like on her bed, with barely the energy to move his hand to beckon her to him.

She gives him a little chuckle, then moves back up his body, letting him wrap his heavy arms around her and roll them over, so that they're on their sides facing each other, his lazy smile matching hers as her fingers ghost over his face, her legs tangled with his.

"Welcome home," she tells him, and they laugh together, his usual hearty rumble reduced to a tired, breathy thing that washes over her warmly, the softness of it matching the dull glow of her bedside lamp, the smooth texture of the sheets beneath them.

"I missed you," he says again, an easy smile on his lips as he kisses her, sweet and lingering.

"Mmm," Regina says when they part, "I missed you, too."

His stomach chooses that moment to grumble, and he grins guiltily at her, but Regina is already rising from the bed, fixing her skimpy slip over her waist as she walks out to the living area and takes out the two plates of food she'd had Granny place in her mini fridge earlier that day, removing the plastic wrap from the selection of cheeses and cold cuts and bringing the plates back with her, depositing them on the night table and going back out to grab the grapes and the wine.

They set up a bit of a naked picnic on the floor, their bodies half-wrapped in a blanket while they feed one another bits of cheese and meat and snuggle lazily into each other, Robin pouring the wine as they discuss his trip.

He takes care of clearing everything when they're done, while Regina waits for him in the bed, and when he walks back into the room and sees her there, he stops, stares.

"Something the matter?" she asks, and Robin shakes his head, keeps looking at her as he answers.

"You're exquisite," he tells her, and climbs up on the bed beside her, his hand running down her body over the lacy fabric still covering her, until he reaches the hem and starts pulling it up, making her giggle.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you, I'm starving," he answers, winking before he buries his head between her thighs...


	18. Of Tears and Kisses

**_I've stated since chapter 2 of Madam President that Regina can't have kids, so I received a prompt on Tumblr asking for Regina's POV of when she confesses that truth to Robin. It's a little sad, but I hope fluffy enough that you guys like it anyway!  
_**

* * *

The coffee has been brewed and poured. Cream and sugar are sitting in their respective bowls next to the filled cups. She's even brought that cherry biscotti he likes so much and placed it on a plate before him. She'd done the dishes while he showered, cleaned up the kitchen a little, even rearranged some of the spices in the cupboard, all to distract herself from the arrival of this dreaded moment.

But she has no other task to hide behind, and they're both sitting there, staring at each other on opposite ends of the couch. She has to talk now.

Except Regina doesn't want to talk.

It's embarrassing, mortifying, really, and it shouldn't be. It should be normal, natural, but she knows that discussing the subject will lead to the reason she doesn't _need_ contraception, and now that she's realized she loves him, that she wants him forever, she's terrified that he won't want her back, not when he finds out she's... damaged.

"Regina?" Robin asks, his voice soft, concerned, "Is something wrong?"

Good, now she's gone and worried him with her nervous silence. She sighs, frustrated.

Here goes.

"Nothing's wrong, I just... I need to talk to you about something..." she says shyly, adding a low "before I lose my nerve," that has him smiling a little, his hand settling over hers as he scoots closer, his thumb rubbing over her own.

"You know you can tell me anything," he insists, and Regina sighs again.

"I think we should stop using condoms," she blurts out.

"Oh," he mutters, clearly not having expected _that_ to be what she wanted to discuss.

"I just feel like they're unnecessary. I trust you, and we're both clean, keeping them only puts us both at risk of getting caught. What if someone sees you buying them? What if the press gets a picture?! They know your face, and they know you're with me all the time because of your job, they could start asking about us, and I really don't want to fall into their speculation, and-"

He stops her incessant ramblings with a sweet kiss, parting only to say, "Okay," against her lips.

"Really?" she asks.

"Of course, if you're certain?"

"I am," she reiterates.

Robin chuckles. "You're quite adorable when you're nervous, you know that?" he tells her, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I have my moments," she says with a smile, relieved that he's agreed so easily, that he's not asking que-

"So, what type of birth control will we be using now, if you don't mind me asking?"

Well... that lasted all of ten seconds.

She grows nervous, fidgety, anxiety curling its dark tendrils around her, squeezing so tight she feels like she's suffocating. But she has to tell him, he deserves to know.

"You needn't worry about that," she starts, and Robin frowns, confused, and she just wants to kiss him and let him hold her and forget this entire thing even happened. She needs his comfort, his affection, even if she's not worthy of it.

"Regina?" he prods when she's been silent for a couple of minutes, "Are you alright?"

She takes a moment, tries to find the words, but all that comes out is a dry sob that just worries him more, his eyes intent on her face as he waits for her answer.

"No, I'm not alright," she admits, taking a deep breath and allowing her self-preservation instinct to garner one last attempt at avoiding this entire situation, "but it's getting late, I should go."

She moves to rise from the couch, but Robin is taking her hand in his now, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently, his other hand ghosting over her cheek as he wipes away a stray tear she hadn't realized was there, and suddenly it's like the floodgates have opened, and she can't tramp down the hurt any longer, can't hide her pain from him the way she wanted to.

"Regina, let me help. Please," he begs, "whatever it is, we'll fix it, but please tell me what's wrong, you're scaring me."

And she is, she can see it in his eyes, in the way they move frantically over her face, his mouth half open as he hovers and tries to find a way to make it better. He's always trying to make things better for her, to make her happy, and it all just _hurts_ , makes her feel so very guilty, because she's been in love with him for over a month now, and she can't tell him. Instead, she's telling him of her painful secret, of how broken she is.

"I can't have children," she finally confesses as the tears overwhelm her, and she finds herself hunching over, her arm around her stomach as she weeps. Robin's hands still, even his breathing seems to stop, waiting for her to finish.

"Daniel and I, we... we tried multiple treatments, different doctors, even IVF, but... it never took."

Her words are mumbled around hiccups and more choking sobs, and she feels cold, because Robin has stopped touching her, probably because he's realized she's not worth touching, not worth caring for...

"Oh, my darling," he says then, wrapping his arms around her and moving her so that she's halfway on his lap, and his warmth is back, enveloping her and easing her breathing as she tries to stop the tears from falling, wiping them away furiously.

"It's alright to cry," he consoles, "don't stop yourself from feeling, Regina. I'm here."

"Y- you're not... mad at me?" she stutters against his chest.

"Why would I be?"

"Robin, you've been c- committing yourself to a s-s- secret relationship with someone wh- who can't even g- give you a family. There's no future with m- me."

He says nothing to that, only clutches her tighter against him, kissing her hair and breathing deeply, his slow exhales helping her relax enough to lessen the crying.

"I'm so sorry for upsetting you, I should've let you tell me when you were ready," he says then, and how is it that _he's_ the one apologizing to _her_ , when all he's done is be wonderful?

"I wanted to tell you," she insists, "I was just... scared. Still am. I mean, why would you want to be with me when I'm...?"

"When you're, what? Stunning, intelligent, kind, amazing?" he interrupts her question, adding his own lovely adjectives over the self-deprecating ones she'd been about to utter, and it makes her smile sadly.

She's about to tell him he doesn't have to say those things, that she'll understand if he wants out, that he shouldn't stay just because he feels bad for her, but it seems he can sense what she's about to say, because he stops her with a beautiful speech that makes her heart flutter.

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with all this pain on your own. If I'd known, I would've said it sooner, but listen to me as I say it now, please. It makes no difference to me whether or not you can give me a child. You're not a baby factory, Regina, you're a person, and an incredible one at that. You have the most beautiful soul, and the most wonderful mind. A little biology fluke doesn't diminish your value, and it isn't going to change how I feel about you, not in the slightest."

"You mean that?" she asks, sounding like a scared little girl seeking reassurance, and Robin leans in close, looks into her eyes and smiles softly as he answers.

"Every word," he promises. "Besides, I already have a child I adore, and you may not have given birth to him, but you've been raising him since the day you met him."

She laughs a little at that, because it's true, she's inadvertently been mothering Roland since Robin introduced them, and she's loved every single second of it.

"We don't need nature to tell us whether or not you can be a mother," Robin continues, "you already are. And I love your relationship with my son, how you bring so much joy to each other. You've made my life brighter because of it. As far as I'm concerned, you and Roland are all the future I need."

He moves his head up then, nose skimming up the bridge of hers and over her forehead as his lips plant a lingering kiss right between her eyebrows, and the tenderness of the gesture has her crying again.

"Thank you," she breathes into his shirt, clutching at him and reveling in the way he strokes her hair, runs his hand down her arm, until their fingers are entwined over his stomach and they lean back on the couch, her body still snuggled into his, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, Regina, not ever," he says vehemently as she plays with his hand, and she can't see his face from this angle, but she can _feel_ the sincerity in his words, raises her head to land a kiss on his cheek before resuming her lazy twirling and caressing of their fingers.

His reassurances help settle her nerves, have her relaxing and finally believing in the possibility of a second chance at happiness.

And the next day, when Roland comes running into her office, his little feet pattering as he screams her name excitedly and jumps into her arms, Regina finds herself agreeing with Robin's words...

They're all the future she needs.


	19. Festivities

**_Prompts: First date + first official public event together + midnight walk_**

 ** _Also, a reminder: I don't take prompts here on FFn or any of my social media except for Tumblr, so if there's anything you'd like written for this verse or any other, you're more than welcome to leave the prompt there. My username is on my profile, and I have anon on, so you don't need to have a Tumblr to leave a prompt. Thanks!_**

 ** _As it stands now, for this AU I have one big prompt and about a half dozen little ones left to do, so you won't run out of MP content just yet._**

 ** _However, I will be posting the MP epilogue very soon, so keep an eye out!_**

 ** _And now, have some fluff =)_**

* * *

It's tradition for the president to celebrate the 4th of July by paying tribute to the United States Armed Forces and war veterans. This year, that celebration involves hosting military heroes and their families for a day of barbecuing, music, and a stunning view of the National Mall's fireworks display from the South Lawn.

Regina is nervous the entire week leading up to it, because aside from all the fanfare, this is also the first live, publicly televised event she and Robin will take part in since the shooting.

Elsa is supportive, insists she knows she's ready for this, that there's nothing to it, just a short speech right before the concert starts (they're bringing a bunch of country legends to perform for the guests, a special treat David helped procure), but her words fall on deaf ears, Regina's nerves closing in as the day approaches.

Because what the Press Secretary fails to understand, is that this is not about the shooting, it's about Robin.

This will mark their first official public event as a couple, a very symbolic moment when you've been hiding your relationship for two years, and while Elsa has insisted that the public approves of them, ( _adores_ them, is the term she'd used earlier that morning, not that it helped lessen Regina's trepidation), the thought of showing themselves to everyone after sneaking around for so long is a foreign one, and it's bothering her.

"You alright?" Robin asks from behind her, just as they're about to leave the room and head downstairs.

"I... don't know," she answers truthfully, and as always, he can tell exactly what's bothering her, does his best to make it better.

"It does feel a bit strange, doesn't it? To be out in the open like this."

"A little."

"If you'd rather I stay, I don't min—"

"No! No," Regina interrupts, because as nerve-wrecking as this will be, she'd rather face it than go back to keeping her love for him in the shadows. "I want you there. It'll be like a date! Our first official date out in public."

"Are you sure you're ready for that? I really don't mind waiting," he insists. Wonderful, stubborn man.

"I'm sure. I love you, and I meant what I said, no more hiding."

Besides, she reminds herself, she has nothing to be ashamed of.

They stroll out to the South Lawn with Roland skipping ahead, his hand firmly grasped in Ashley's as they head to one of the many barbecue stations set up all around the lawn.

Robin tugs on her hand, makes her look up at him, at his smile, and her nerves settle somewhat.

She's expecting people to talk, to make remarks about their being together, to ask annoying questions, but is greeted instead with well wishes and comments on how much of a relief it is to see her fully recovered. It eases her anxiety to see soldiers and citizens engage in conversation with Robin, asking him about England, about his work there, some kind, elderly women even ask about Roland and request that the boy give them a tour of the space, prompting Regina to smile as she watches him join them, the boy scampering off happily as he points to the different things he likes about the place.

* * *

"Madam President?" Tuck interrupts shyly a half hour later, just as Elsa is introducing her to a few veterans, "Mr. Locksley is asking for you."

"Ah, is loverboy jealous you're spending time with us handsome devils?" one of the older men asks her, his voice gruff and cheerful, the comment meant as a joke, a welcome one.

Regina giggles, shakes her head, "Are you trying to make my boyfriend jealous, Mr. Darling?" she retorts, and it's the first time she's called Robin her boyfriend in public. It feels... nice. Natural.

"Of course I am, and he should be! I'm about to steal you away," the man presses on, offering his hand and asking her for a dance, much to the amusement of his peers, who all shake their heads and laugh as they wait for her answer. Regina turns her head to Tuck.

"Tell Mr. Locksley I'm being romanced by a war hero, I'll be there later," she jokes, and the Chief Usher grins at her, nods his head in acquiescence, and then he and Elsa walk back to the other side, where she can see Robin talking to some of the children that have come celebrate with their parents.

Regina dances with the man as his friends watch, smiles as he clumsily twirls her around and sways their joint hands back and forth to the rhythm of the oldies being played in the background. In one of their many turns, she's swapped from one pair of arms to another, and suddenly it's Robin who holds her, the movements becoming more fluid as the song slows and his easy steps take over.

"That's cheating, son," she hears Mr. Darling say just behind her, and Robin chuckles, takes his eyes away from hers to look at the older man.

"You, good sir, were attempting to take something very precious from me. Wars have been waged for less."

The man laughs, tells him _Well played_ , and Robin then looks back at Regina with that boyish smile of his, the one where he bites the tip of his tongue as he grins toothily at her, and it melts her, has her lifting her head from its perch on his chest to kiss him chastely on the lips, forgetting their audience until the group of elderly men start catcalling and _woohoo_ ing their enthusiasm, making her blush as she sinks her face into Robin's shirt.

"Look at you two adorable lovebirds," Mr. Darling's wife says as she joins their little soiree. She's sweet in her words, smiles as she greets them and chastises her husband for messing around with the president, to which Regina merely shakes her head and grins, telling her it's fine, that she had a fun time, then watching as they go in search of food, leaving her and Robin with a rare moment to themselves amidst the bustling about of guests and staff.

The press is situated by the very entrance of the lawn, with some cameramen near the stage, setting up for when the concert starts, so they're somewhat alone, secluded by the trimmed trees that line the far-edge behind which they're standing, and Robin wastes no time in using this to his advantage, wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her cheek, making her squirm a bit.

"Someone could see," she tells him as he moves to kiss her neck.

"So?" he asks against her skin, and she asks herself that very same question then, realizing she's uttered her warning not because she's nervous they'll get caught, but because she's used to it.

"Sorry. Force of habit," she apologizes, smiling and letting her own hands travel up the length of his arms, until they're looped around his neck as he leans closer and dots a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Everyone is in front of the stage at seven sharp, ushered there by Tuck and Elsa, who then announces that the presidential speech is about to begin. Regina steels herself for it, swallows nervously as flashbacks of the last time she stood on a stage before a large crowd invade her mind, but Robin is there, holding her hand, breathing reassurances in her ear before he leaves her to it, stands to the side of the stage with Roland and offers her a supportive smile just before she begins to speak.

She opens with a short statement about the independence of the United States, then thanks all the soldiers and veterans for their service, tells them how admirable their endeavors are, because they've kept their country safe, at great risk to themselves, and publicly acknowledging that is the least she can do. They clap, smile, and then she closes by thanking their families for providing the love and support that their heroes need, her last few sentences ringing loud and clear among the people gathered below.

"My job is insignificant next to everything you've done, everything you continue to do, and I thank your families, your mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters, I thank your friends, and everyone else who's ever had an inspiring role in your life, everyone who has ever given you something to fight for..."

At that, she turns, stretches out her hand and waits for Robin to move closer and take it. When he does, looking a bit stunned at her little display of PDA, she squeezes, drags him closer, keeping that hand of his in hers as she turns back to the mic and wraps up her speech, Roland now standing between her and his father, his tiny body pressed nervously against her leg as he looks on at the crowd.

"Freedom, and hope, and love. That's what I want us to celebrate today, it's who we are as a nation, and it's all because of you. Thank you."

They clap, cheer, and _aww_ at the image of her and Robin holding hands as the lights dim and they leave the stage, with Roland walking slowly in front of them as the first country star in the lineup begins to sing.

The show is fantastic, and everyone seems to have a good time, fireworks erupting at the very end, illuminating the space in whites and blues and reds, their light bathing the crowd. People marvel at the display, children gasping and pointing out their favorites, hyped up on candy and sodas as they sit on the shoulders of their parents. It's beautiful, a true family day, filled with laughter and that wonderful feeling of togetherness, of home. Regina couldn't ask for a better night.

Her favorite part though, is after everyone is gone and the lights have been turned off, when Roland has been put to bed with an exhausted smile and a kiss, and she and Robin are standing at his door, watching him sleep peacefully in his bed.

Robin's hands find hers, bring her knuckles to his lips, and she smiles as he murmurs, "I've an idea."

"Do you?"

"Well," he says as he lets go of her hands and brings her closer, arms wrapping around her waist as hers do the same, his breath deep as he continues, "the cleaning crew's just left, it's a beautiful night, we have the South Lawn to ourselves..."

"And?"

"And I was thinking... perhaps I could take you for a walk in the moonlight?"

She smiles cheekily, looks at him, squeezing him tighter for a moment.

"Perhaps," she answers, still smiling as she lets him lead her away, down the stairs and out into the yard, where the glow of the stars is dulled by the moon, big and bright against the near-black backdrop of the sky above them.

Her shoes are off, held securely in Robin's free hand, and the grass is warm and soft under her bare feet, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders as they walk, her own arm around his waist and her hair flying everywhere when the wind hits it. It's longer now than she's ever had it before (haircut appointments weren't that important during the whole recovering-from-near-death thing, apparently), but she likes the length, likes the way Robin can't resist the urge to run his fingers through it, playing with the dark tresses even now, as they move around the lawn in companionable silence.

"It's beautiful out here," she whispers after a few minutes, pausing in her strides to look around at the moonlit gardens.

"Beautiful," Robin agrees, but he's not looking at their surroundings, he's looking at _her_ , and the pure love in his tone as he says the word brings tears to her eyes. Regina moves to stand in front of him, her arms loose around his stomach as both his hands cradle her face, her shoes now left forgotten on the grass.

"Were you okay today? I know we got separated for a while, but..."

"I was great. Quite a hit with the older ladies, if I do say so myself," he answers, making her exhale a laugh, her eyes closing when he leans in to brush their noses together.

"I'm glad."

"You're glad a bunch of elderly women were flirting with me?" he jokes, making her laugh again.

"I'm glad it didn't feel awkward for you," she amends, kissing the tip of his nose, eyes closing again as he nuzzles her neck.

"Was it awkward for you?"

"I thought it would be, but... no. When Mr. Darling kept saying he was going to steal me from you, it felt like the most normal thing in the world, like people had always known. Turns out I was nervous over nothing."

"Good," Robin says with a smile, ducking his head down to kiss her, but Regina stops him, raises a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"You think it's _good_ that a sweet old man was hitting on me?" she claps back at his earlier quip, and he laughs, presses himself closer to her.

"If it made you feel more at ease with all this? Yes."

"It did," she assures him, and then closes the gap for that kiss she'd interrupted, her lips lingering on his as they breathe each other in.

It's nearing midnight when they finally make their way back to the house, pausing every few steps to kiss and touch, the late breeze cooling the warmth of the summer evening.

Their room is an iceberg when they finally get there, thanks to Robin's constant need to blast the A/C (a habit Roland's starting to pick up as well, she's noticed), but Regina can't really fault him for it, loves that she can cuddle up to him even on the hottest of summer nights, and she does just that when they finally climb into bed, resting her head on his bare chest as his arm wraps around her shoulders.

"Good night, my love," he whispers against her forehead, landing a kiss there.

"Mmm, good night," she mumbles drowsily, and falls asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat, content to be here, in his arms, where she's safe, and loved, and happy.


	20. In-Flight Entertainment

**_Based off this Tumblr prompt: MP verse Robin and Regina join the Mile High Club on Air Force One._**

* * *

There are too many things that are wrong with what she's doing right now. Far too many things.

She shouldn't be doing it, for one, let alone in such closed quarters, and yes, Air Force One might have dozens of corridors and rooms, and half the plane might be for her leisure, with no one else having access to the area unless she grants it, but it's still risky — _very risky_ — to be fucking your boyfriend on the same plane you share with the entire White House press corps.

Poor Elsa will be scarred for life if they get caught and she has to address it in her briefings.

"Robin," she rasps, finding it difficult to speak when his mouth is sucking her nipple just like that.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, lips tickling the skin he's just left wet and warm in his wake.

They're inside the president's quarters, in her room to be exact. It's Robin's first time aboard Air Force One, and Regina had been eager to show him around. She'd also figured they should take advantage of her room being the only one with a bed, and use it to _occupy their time_ during their fourteen hour flight to Tokyo.

Not that they're using the bed at all, since her dashing fiance had decided to press her against the wall at the very end of the room and ravish her before reaching the firm mattress and soft cushions.

They really can't do this here.

"We can't do this here," she tells him, but her command sounds weak even to her own ears, and Robin only smirks, tongue mischievously peeking out of his mouth to lick at her nipple again, and she's so sensitive that the action makes her shiver as frissons of pleasure shoot through her.

"Oh, I believe we can," he counters, and she can see it all over his face, the smug satisfaction it gives him to know that she's at his complete mercy. And damn, if it doesn't turn her on even more.

They've been at this for almost twenty minutes now, wildly making out and touching and teasing each other. She's naked but for the lacy black-and-purple bra Robin hasn't finished removing, the cups shoved haphazardly to the sides while he feasts on her breasts.

His mouth is sucking on one nipple and then the other, hands cupping and kneading as he bends his face forward and kisses whatever he can reach of her, her breath hitching when he bites playfully at the round swells, then moves back to give more sucking kisses to her nipples. Her back arches as she basks in the sensation.

"We can't," she tries to protest, but she's moaning even as she says it, her hips rolling against his, her sex wet and ready against his hardness over the fabric of his trousers.

"This was your idea," he reminds her, adds a little pout for good measure, and Regina can't help the little laugh that bubbles out of her at the sight of him, swollen lower lip jutting out as he gives her those puppy dog eyes that almost always get her to do his bidding.

"Clearly I didn't think it through," she admits. "It's too risky. Someone could hear us."

"Then I suppose you'll have to be quiet, Madam President..." he trails off, and her eyes widen when he adds, "and I shall endeavor to make that as difficult as possible."

"Oh, god," she husks, threading her fingers in his hair and pulling slightly, her head landing back against the wall with a dull bump. She feels his lips trailing a line of kisses down her stomach, lingering just under her belly button, his hands coasting down her sides until they come to rest at her thighs. He squeezes one of them gently, requesting that she open for him.

Regina does, her protests forgotten as he kneels before her and hooks one of her knees over his shoulder. Robin keeps her other leg on the floor, steady, her stance wide enough to expose her to his hungry gaze.

He licks his lips as he looks at her, free hand moving to stroke through the wetness of her as he licks his lips again, and the sight of it has her squirming, groaning his name in desperation.

"Eager, are we?" he jokes, but his eyes are dark and full of desire when they look back up at her, and she gently thrusts her hips forward, silently begging for his mouth.

Thankfully, he doesn't draw it out, doesn't torture her like he sometimes likes to do, but instead dives right in, closing his lips around her clit and sucking as he lets one finger push into her.

"God, yes!" she moans as he eats her, her hips rolling and rolling against his face as he thrusts that finger faster, deeper, his lips sucking, tongue licking and licking. Regina has to fight the urge to scream his name and beg him to make her come.

Robin gives a loud _Mmm_ and sucks harder, the hand holding her thigh moving to press flat against her belly, keeping her anchored to the wall while his relentless mouth is on her. The leg she has hooked over his shoulder jerks against him on a particularly sharp thrust of his fingers inside her (there are two now, pulsing and hitting that spot inside her over and over again), and Regina bites her lip to keep from crying out. It's that deep, strong thrusting that has her writhing, her hands clawing at the wall behind her as she swallows heavily and gasps out her pleasure.

She comes with a strangled moan of his name, one that has him smiling against her clit. Smug bastard.

His fingers are still inside her, but they slow in their attentions as she rides the wave of her orgasm, coaxing her down from her incredible high. He's looking up at her, taking in the state of her, sweaty and disheveled and with her bra askew, and she can see the raw desire in his eyes, can feel it in his touch as it almost scorches her flesh.

"You're stunning," he tells her, "I so love watching you come."

Regina knows that, knows he enjoys the sounds she makes, the way her body moves and how her face changes as she finds that blissful peak. It's a mutual thing, she loves watching him, too, loves that primal look on his face when he takes her hard and fast, and that's exactly what she wants right now.

Robin is standing up before her, lips swollen and tongue tasting of her when she kisses him sloppily. His hands caress her body, rid her of her bra at last, then move back over her skin, touching her just because he can, just because he likes it.

She divests him of his clothes wordlessly, takes him in hand before he's even stepped out of his pants as they puddle on the floor.

"I want you inside me," Regina says then, stroking and biting the tip of her tongue as she grins in smug satisfaction. He's grunting, inadvertently thrusting into her hand, his breath whooshing out of him when her thumb presses against his tip and spreads the drop of precum she finds there.

And just like that, she has turned the tables on him, and it's Robin who has to fight to keep quiet now.

"The bed... we... let's... _oh, fuck!_... I want... just... _shit_ ," he moans loudly as she licks her way up his chest, hand pumping him and applying enough pressure to drive him crazy.

She sucks at his pulse point and moves up, up, up, peppering kisses until she reaches the back of his ear, nips the lobe in that way he likes so much, and then moves back down his jawline and to his mouth, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip and pulling, releasing and licking it to soothe when he hisses at the pain.

"No bed," she tells him, answering his earlier ramblings. "I want you to fuck me hard against this wall, Robin."

He groans at that, his forehead settling against hers, noses bumping together before he kisses her fiercely, tongue wild against hers and hands grasping her hips to pull her closer, her own hand falling from his cock and moving up to bury her fingers in his hair and tug.

They're pressed together as close as can be, his tip nudging her navel, and it's all warm and slick and delicious as her skin slides against his, her arms looping around his shoulders when he suddenly grabs and lifts her, pushing her back against the wall for leverage, shifting them so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

When he's made sure she can hold herself up comfortably, one of his hands lets go of her and grabs his cock, positioning it right against her slit, and then he's inside her in one smooth thrust. Buried to the hilt as she lets out a scream of pleasure, one that would surely be heard outside this room if the staff were there, instead of up on the first floor going over the schedule for their visit to Tokyo, like Robin had conveniently instructed them to do before joining her here.

He's moving now, in and out of her in quick, sharp raps that have her bouncing and hitting the wall behind her repeatedly, her arousal climbing higher and higher, until she feels her body building up toward that peak again, her hips circling against his as she pushes back against the wall for purchase.

"You're so wet, my love," Robin murmurs, his mouth hovering over hers, warm breath tickling her chin.

"For you," she gasps back, "always for you. You feel so... _yesss_ , like that!" she exclaims when a shift of his weight from one foot to the other has him working at a slightly different angle, has him hitting her G-spot more firmly.

"There?" he asks on the next thrust, and Regina nods frantically.

"Yes! Don't stop, don't stop," she begs, reveling in the coil of pure ecstasy that keeps winding and winding inside her, tighter and tighter as Robin keeps going, his hips slapping against hers as he bucks harder into her.

"Can you come again like this?" he asks, and, "Are you close?"

She nods again, answers both of his questions with a whimper of _Harder_ that she muffles against his mouth when she kisses him messily, tongues tasting and tangling passionately.

"Let go, beautiful, I want to see your face as you come all over my cock," he gasps, and god, he needs to shut up. She'll scream so loud, she'll alert the entire plane to what they're doing if he doesn't shut up right now.

"You're fucking glorious, you know that?" he keeps it up, mutters naughty, wonderful things about how good she feels, how hard it gets him to see her all riled up like this, and their breaths mingle as he continues moving in and out of her, hard and deep and perfect.

"God, yes, just like that," he shouts when she rolls her hips faster, meeting his fervent thrusts with wild ones of her own. "Keep going... _Ngh!_... Fuck me, Regina."

She tightens her hold on his shoulders, pushes away from the wall and hangs onto his neck as she bounces on him, the change in position awarding her a strangled moan from Robin as he helps her bob up and down on his cock. And then he's slamming her against the wall again, perching her there so he can move one hand down from her waist to her clit and rub his thumb over it, his teeth pulling at her bottom lip just as she did to him earlier.

"Oh, god!" she rasps into his mouth, "I'm gonna... I love... _fuck, yes!_ Right there," she urges when he pushes harder into her, lands a strong hit on that spot that makes her see stars.

Robin doesn't need more direction, makes sure to hit it again, and again, his thumb on her clit going faster, until she's coming and gasping and crying out, closed quarters be damned.

Regina hasn't even started to come down from her high when he spills inside her, the strained set of his jaw loosening as he relaxes against her. A couple of involuntary, erratic thrusts as he comes ignite echoes from her own orgasm, making her hum as she slumps against him, her arms holding tight as he gropes her rear and moves them away from the wall.

They finally use the bed, collapsing on it in tangled limbs, and then Robin is gathering her in his arms, bringing her close and kissing her softly, languidly, a total contrast from the fast, hard stint they just had.

When they part, he gives her an impish smile, the one he gets when he's got something ridiculous on his mind.

"What?" she asks, clearing her throat when her voice comes out scratchy.

"We just joined the Mile High Club," he whispers conspiratorially, and Regina giggles.

"I suppose we did... on Air Force One, no less," she adds.

"God bless America," he quips, making her roll her eyes even as she grins at him.

"I love you," he tells her then, his eyes droopy and his voice low, one finger traveling down the bridge of her nose, then swirling around a lock of her hair.

"I love you, too," Regina says tenderly, cuddling closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder, kissing his chest just before they both fall asleep, lulled by the dull rumbling of the plane engines.

When they land in Tokyo, Robin smirks at her, winks as they walk side by side on the tarmac, and tells her he can't _wait_ for the flight home.


	21. Busted

**_Prompt: Robin and Regina almost getting caught during a very heated kiss._**

* * *

Regina rarely indulges in this kind of debauchery (she has an important job to do and an image to maintain, after all), but tonight is different. Tonight, she revels in the naughtiness of her actions. Her very last State of the Union Address is done, and she is celebrating in a way that keeps the chilly January air from freezing her to the bone.

In fact, she's celebrating in a way that has her sweating, squirming, building pleasure and wetness in places that perhaps aren't appropriate for her current whereabouts.

She's in the oval office, and her husband has her pressed against her desk, very hot and very eager.

"You were amazing," he growls into her neck, making her gasp as he rakes his teeth over her skin, pushes her back to sit on the polished wood.

"Out of all the — _ah!_ — the things that t... turn you on — _god, don't stop_ ," she whimpers when his tongue swirls just behind her ear, one hand kneading her thigh under her skirt, and she has to take a breath before continuing. "I wouldn't have expec— oh, _god_... expected the State of the Union to be one of them."

He stops then, despite her protests, chuckles against her chin and then pulls back to look at her.

"Five years together, three of them married, and I dare think you do not know me at all, Madam President," he teases, leaning forward to sink his teeth into her bottom lip, her mouth opening to him instantly, tongue desperate for the taste of his.

He doesn't let go of her lip, though, and he drags it, pulls it toward him before he lets go, his mouth hovering, breath washing over her face as he speaks.

"I never find you sexier," he starts, hand squeezing her thigh again, "than when you're out there, doing all these extraordinary things only you can do."

"Ah, so power is sexy, then?" she breathes as her head lolls back to grant him access to her neck, and he doesn't disappoint, closes his lips around that one spot under her jaw that she likes so much and sucks.

" _Very_ sexy. It's why I married a president," he quips when he pulls away, trailing the words along her skin as he kisses his way up, up, up, lips touching hers for one tender moment before he devours her.

It's sloppy, hard, and unbelievably hot, and Regina thinks if he keeps going like this, she might let him fuck her right here on her desk. And how could she not? When he's swirling his tongue just like that, and inching his hand further up her thigh, fingertips grazing the top of her stocking, pulling it down and moaning when he feels the soft, bare skin beneath.

His other hand, the one not playing sinful tricks on her leg, inches upward, finds a breast and squeezes, thumb searching and rubbing her nipple over the thin fabric of her white cotton blouse and lacy bra.

"How upset will Ruby be if I rip off a few buttons?" he murmurs breathlessly into her mouth, making her chuckle before she stops him, pulls back and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you really thinking of Ruby right now?" she cracks, her tone just as breathless, but no less firm.

"Well, she did smack me when I stepped on your dress at that dinner with the Polish ambassador," he throws back, and she laughs outright. It used to make her insecure, back when she first met Ruby and saw her friendship with Robin, but it doesn't anymore, has come to think of the young brunette as her own friend in the past few years, so the idea he posits, and the memory it triggers, are a source of amusement rather than apprehension now.

"Shut up and kiss me," she orders, and he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

"Bossy. I like it," he tells her.

"I'm the President," she explains with her sauciest grin, and then they stop talking altogether.

The air is full of gasps and whimpers, half-moans that are snuffed by passionate kisses and heavy breathing that warms them both. Seconds later, Robin is rocking his hips against hers, his cock pressing into her, so that she can feel how hard it is even over the fabric of their clothes, and the groan that leaves her is full and loud, has her grabbing him tighter and pulling him closer.

His tongue is a crime, slides against hers in the most delicious of ways, has her crying out broken screams of his name, her hips meeting his in tandem, and the absurdity of what's happening makes her breath catch, has her smiling wickedly at just how exquisitely scandalous this is.

Regina wonders what Queen Victoria would have thought of her using her masterpiece of a desk, made from the timbers of her beloved HMS Resolute, as a surface in which to dry-hump her very handsome, very horny husband.

The illicit quality of it all turns her on even more.

Her kisses grow bolder then, her hand moving out of his hair and down, down, down between them, until she can palm his cock over his trousers, and his hips jerk in response, her name falling from his lips in a heated whisper.

And then a knock on her office door has their entire fantasy shattering in mere seconds.

Regina shoves Robin off of her, straightening the three top buttons of her shirt (when had he undone those?!) and running her fingers through her hair to comb away the mess he's made of it.

"Mom!" Roland's voice greets her as he opens the door, and then he enters and takes in the sight of his parents. Regina tries to play it cool, to pretend like he didn't just walk in on them making out like horny teenagers on a centuries-old desk.

But she forgets that her son is almost nine years old now, and far more difficult to fool than he was when he was younger, and the amused roll of his eyes tells her they've been caught.

"Did you need anything, honey?" She veers the attention away from them and back to Roland, who nods and hands her a piece of paper she hadn't noticed he was carrying.

"Is it okay if Chef Lucas and I try this for dinner?" he asks, brandishing the recipe in front of her. She glances at it, makes sure it's nothing too complicated, and gives him an approving nod and a smile.

"Sure, sweetheart, we'll be down soon," she says, and he scampers off.

"Phew," she hears Robin say behind her, his lips finding the crook of her shoulder and planting a kiss there, his hands wrapping around her, fingers lacing low over her belly. "That was close."

"Oh, and Dad?" they hear Roland call out as he appears by the door again.

"Yes, son?"

"You have mom's lipstick on your face," the boy says with a mischievous giggle, and then leaves them there, closing the door behind him as they stare after him with sheepish grins.

"Oops," Robin jokingly laments as she turns around to face him, finally noticing the smudges of her new burgundy shade on his mouth and jaw.

"Yeah," she laughs, leaning in to kiss him again, picking up where they left off. "Oops."


	22. Always

**_I got a lot (A LOT) of requests to do the wedding/wedding night, and after that terrible season finale and the mess OUAT has turned into lately, I feel we all deserve a little smutty fluff, don't we?_**

* * *

In the history of the United States, only three presidents have married while in office. Out of those three, Grover Cleveland is the only one to have wed at the White House, back in 1886. His bride was 28 years his junior and the daughter of one of his closest friends.

It is said Cleveland took an interest in his bride from the second she was born, and doted on her as she grew up. He was even appointed manager of her estate when her father died, granting him control of her assets for most of her life. Regina cannot attest to whether the relationship was a healthy one or not, but the whole thing just screams child grooming to her, and she's loathe to have a wedding that the media will inevitably compare to that affair.

So no, she decides, she won't be getting married at the White House, and she makes sure to strike that possibility off the table when Robin suggests it to her, explaining her reasoning.

He's understanding, kind and wonderful as always, kisses her as he agrees with her decision, and laughs when she exhales in relief. He then insists that it's her day, she can do as she pleases, no need to worry over him.

"It's your wedding, too, though," she protests in a murmur, almost whining as he hugs her and plants a kiss on the top of her head. They should go down to dinner soon, Roland is waiting, but she finds she quite likes this little bit of time to themselves, secluded as they are by the oval office doors and its lack of cameras, which gives them enough privacy to discuss these matters without being watched or interrupted.

"My only wish as the groom," Robin teases, pushing away from her to look into her eyes, mirth shining among the blue of his, "is that my stunning bride shows up."

She laughs, shakes her head and rests a hand on his chest, never breaking eye contact as she tells him, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

They get married on a private ceremony in David's private country estate in Connecticut, almost a year after Robin proposes, with only close friends and some of the staff to witness their union. Security is so tight that no one manages to get a picture except for the photographer they've hired, who coincidentally happens to be Elsa's sister, Anna, a quirky young girl with a good eye for capturing fun, candid shots and romantic moments.

Regina's dress is somewhat understated, but perfect. The skirt is long and flowy organza that practically floats as she walks, the airiness of it making her feel like a princess despite the simplicity of the design. The bodice is made of lace, sleeveless and sheer at the chest and back, showing her skin under the delicate flower applique, and held together by a vertical row of little white buttons that goes all the way down into the skirt, ending just below the same flowery embroidery that stems from the bodice and bleeds onto the waist. She wears her hair up, braided and twisted into a loose bun that rests at her nape, a few curled tendrils framing her face. Her makeup is light and soft, and Regina feels natural, _beautiful_.

She smiles —beams, really—, Roland's hand grasped tightly in hers as he walks her down the aisle that's been set up outside, with garlands of wisteria hanging from the wooden arches above them, creating a thick, gorgeous canopy of the little purple flowers, and Robin bounces on the balls of his feet as he watches her, too impatient for her to reach him to stay still.

They say the traditional vows, their own saved for later, when the evening is over and they're alone in bed, gasping and moaning in each other's arms. They have the main house for the night, everyone else is settled into the several guest houses within the estate, and Regina mentally thanks Mary Margaret again for having the brilliant idea of giving them a night to themselves before going back to reality (a honeymoon isn't really an option, not when you're the president of the most powerful country in the world, and have about a trillion things to attend to).

The reception is held under a giant white tent, in a lovely meadow just a few steps from the house, with delicious food and plenty of champagne to go around. Everything is warm and full of light despite it being not-yet spring, and the melodic tunes played by the band near the dance floor mark their steps as her husband twirls her around and then brings her in against him, grinning into her mouth as he kisses her whenever she's close enough. Roland interrupts them, though, asks for an official dance with his mother (he calls her Mommy now, has been doing so for the past few months, and it still makes tears spring to her eyes, makes her hug him so tight he has to beg her between giggles to let go).

She spins around with her little boy in her arms, laughs when he yells for her to go faster, and it all feels so right, so _perfect_ , like this has always been the way they were meant to end up, mother and child connected by love, if not by blood.

Robin watches from where he dances with Ashley and smiles, never faltering in his steps as he shifts closer to them, dragging his dancing partner along and making Regina laugh at his obvious intentions.

"Can I have my wife back, please?" he asks his son, and Roland pretends to consider it, taps his chin and juts out his bottom lip in an expression so much like his father's that it makes Regina giggle into the boy's shoulder, her hands tightening their hold on him as she lifts him up a bit, readjusting to perch him on her hip as they talk.

"Roland," Ashley warns. Suddenly he laughs, nods his head at Robin, and then squirms to get down, taking his nanny's hand and going in search for food, while she and Robin are left to dance together again. Regina's arms loop around his neck while his wrap around her waist, foreheads touching as they move slowly, despite the upbeat rhythm of the song currently playing.

They're exhausted when they finally head up to the bedroom later that night, Roland and Ashley having departed for the little cabin just next door with Ruby and Belle hours ago, the boy too tired to keep his eyes open.

Regina reaches the room first, opens the door and gasps, Robin stopping abruptly just behind her.

It's beautiful, spacious, with matte hardwood floors covered largely by a lovely brown rug with a beige and blue flower pattern. A cushy, beige chair and ottoman rest in the far corner, with a light blue throw draped over it to match the flowers on the carpet.

There are flowers on the bedside tables and vanity, and a large canopy bed sits in the middle of it all, with beige gossamer curtains hanging from the wooden structure, billowing slowly back and forth with the wind coming in through the French doors, left half-open to showcase the terrace.

Outside, they can take in the view of the vast, empty countryside that stretches beyond the house, moonlight trickling in and giving the whole room an ethereal sort of glow, as it plays with the yellowy gleam of the squat little candles placed in every possible surface.

This has to be Ruby's handiwork, Regina is sure of it, makes a mental note to thank her friend tomorrow... and then Robin's hand is on her waist, and nothing exists but the two of them.

"Quite nice, isn't it?" he whispers in her ear, and she nods, leans back into his chest, his hands wrapping low around her stomach, lips landing a soft kiss on her neck.

"Shall we, Mrs. Locksley?" he says then, and Regina smiles.

She's keeping her name, for political reasons, mostly, but she's keeping it, and Robin doesn't seem to mind. They've discussed it plenty of times before, and he's agreed that it's best for her image with the public to remain President _Mills_ , but it hasn't stopped him from calling her Mrs. Locksley whenever they're alone. Regina has to admit that she likes it, likes feeling _his_ , likes that he's turned this into a little game that makes her blush and grin and _want_ him.

She steps inside, with Robin trailing behind her as he shuts the door, locks it for good measure, and then the reality of what this is hits her. Her eyes well up with tears of happiness when he walks towards her, cradles her cheek in his hand and leans in slowly to kiss her.

"I love you," she breathes, because above everything else, _that_ is what tonight is about.

"As I love you," he returns in the same low voice. That hand on her cheek caresses its way over her neck now, to her shoulder, down her arm, until he can grasp her fingers and bring them to his lips, laying a kiss on her knuckles before he pulls her along and walks them to the bed.

"Who goes first?" she asks just before the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Robin stops, stares at her for a moment, one finger trailing down the front of her gown. They've left their shoes at the door, are standing barefoot and needy by the curtains of the bed, and he smiles, says he should go first, and then kisses his vows into her body.

"You are incredible," he starts, bussing her lips. "Stunning in every way," a kiss on her bare shoulder, "and I am so lucky that you chose me."

His words are whispered now, with kisses peppered in between them. Regina can feel her skin warming up, moans softly when his hand starts to trail up her thigh, dragging the fabric of her dress with it, his mouth still kissing, still talking.

"I firmly believe it was written in the stars," he murmurs before kissing her neck, and she'd laugh at how silly that is, if he hadn't followed it with, "that you and I would end up here," another kiss, "that I would know your heart, and you would own mine."

He pulls away at that, looks into her eyes, and her breathing is shallow, labored, her thighs rubbing together at the wetness already forming between them. But he's not done, and his eyes shine with mischief and happiness as he turns her, until his lips are at her nape, just under the pins that hold her braided bun together, his hand fiddling with the first button at the very top of her dress.

"I love and admire everything about you, Regina," he tells her when that pesky first button is finally undone. And then he proceeds to whisper his favorite traits with every button he pops open.

"Your unrelenting courage," he says, kissing her skin as it's revealed to him from under the lace. "The way you love and care for Roland, your eyes and the way they look at me, your lips..."

More and more buttons are opened as he kisses and whispers his way down her back.

"I love your strength, your brilliant mind, your bravery," he says, pressing three more sweet pecks into her back as he sinks to his knees behind her. "I love you for trusting me to give you pleasure, love your body and how it reacts to my touch. The little breathy whimper that always escapes you when I kiss you."

That breathy whimper bubbles out of her when the next kiss he plants on her lingers, his lips sucking a little at the skin of her lower back.

"Yes, like that," he moans, straying from his task for a moment when she circles her hips back against him. His face is pressed against the small of her back as he tastes her, nips at her, his hands getting a little too eager and pulling harshly at the fabric, the last few buttons popping loose and raining on the carpet at their feet.

"You've just ripped my very expensive dress," she chastises, but her tone is low, needy, and her chiding loses its effect.

"Apologies, your majesty," he quips, still kneeling behind her, hands turning her and pushing at her legs so that she lands on the mattress. His eyes are mischievous and dark as he ducks his head under said expensive dress, hands shoving organza out of his path until she feels the tip of his nose against her thigh.

"Oh, fuck," she hears him mumble, and she smiles smugly, knowing he's just caught sight of the little number she's been wanting to show him all night. She'd worn no bra today due to the sheer lace back piece, a bonus in comfort, for sure, but quite a setback as far as sexy wedding night lingerie goes. She'd managed to find something nice, though, a little lacy scrap of fabric that barely covered anything at all, but looked sexy enough with the garter she'd placed on her thigh.

Robin's fingers are hooking on that scrap of white lace now, pulling it aside as he groans, the sound muffled by the layers of fabric covering him. And then his tongue is there, lapping at her wet folds without much preamble, soft passes that tease and ignite her every desire, but that aren't enough to make her come, not yet.

"Mmm," she murmurs at the sensation, and then, "keep going."

He does, but not in the way she'd expected him. She'd meant for him to continue his vows, not continue his torturous attentions to her clit, which he's just intensified by wrapping his lips around it and sucking, making her writhe on the bed as she sinks back on her elbows. Her legs open further, the skirt of her dress tented over Robin's head as it moves, his mouth working wonders on her clit as one finger sinks into her and teases.

"I me— _mmm_... I meant keep go— _ah!_... keep going with... with the vows," she gasps, and feels him laugh against her thigh as he stops his little licks and backs out from under her skirt, looking up at her.

He looks... well, adorable. Flushed and breathless from the heat down below, his hair a chaotic mess after being mussed against the dress, and he's smiling as he moves to stand.

In their heady state, they'd forgotten to open the curtains on the bed before Regina landed on it, the gauzy adornment now wedged between her rear and the mattress, pulling the curtain taut from the canopy. She chuckles, lifts her lower body so that Robin can release the translucent material from under her. And then she scoots up the side of the bed, letting the curtain fall between them while he stands there, watching her through the thin veil for a few quiet moments.

Slowly, he opens the curtain, his eyes roaming her body, still covered by her gown, which rests askew around her shoulders now.

"Turn around," he tells her, and she obeys without question, feels his hand trail down her back as he finishes his vows.

"We've survived so much together, become stronger because of it," he says as he starts to remove the pins from her hair, pulling apart the thick braid when it falls against her left shoulder, his fingers gentle and slow as he speaks. "You have such fire, Regina, and you've lit up my world in ways I never thought possible. I'm so thankful that you've allowed me the opportunity to make you happy, and I promise to do so for the rest of our lives."

His last words are whispered just as her hair tumbles loose around her face, and she turns to look at him with watery eyes, a couple of tears escaping as she closes her eyes and kisses him.

She rises then, kneels on the bed while his fingers ghost over her dress, finally pushing it down her shoulders and off, leaving her topless and warm with desire as the fabric pools about her waist.

Not for long, though, because his hands are there next, pushing the dress further down until she can crawl out of it, nudging it off the bed with her toes until she's in nothing but her garter and panties, still shoved aside from his earlier attentions.

Robin's eyes travel hungrily up and down her body, one hand already kneading a breast as she falls back on her elbows again, propped up enough to watch him work himself with his other hand over his tuxedo pants.

"Robin," she breathes when his hand dips lower, the tip of his finger circling her entrance, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips as he teases her.

"Your turn," he says then, a slight smirk breaking out on his face when she whines at the loss of his finger, but then he's raising it to his lips, sucking around it and letting it go with a wet pop as he waits for her to speak.

Regina takes a few deep breaths to calm her accelerated pulse, racks her brain trying to remember the words she'd devised for tonight. For some reason she grows nervous, the weight of what this is settling heavier on her chest at the same time it's about to burst with happiness and love.

She inverts their positions then, has him lie down on his back while she peruses his body as she sits beside him. Her hands trail down his torso, deftly work at removing his bowtie and shirt, and she smugly tells him "See? No need to rip it," when she's finished and no buttons are lost.

Regina then eases the soft material off of him, and Robin rolls his eyes playfully at her words, urges _Go on, then_ , waiting and watching her intently.

She's found the words now, has them all memorized and ready to go, but then she looks at his eyes, at the way he's taking in every little bit of her, and her speech flies out the window, replaced with words that tumble from the very heart of her as it beats faster and faster for him.

"You brought light into my life, too," she begins, "and chased away all the darkness that had been plaguing me. You and our wonderful son gave me hope."

He smiles big at that, as he always does when she casually refers to Roland as _their_ son. It'd been as easy as breathing, to make the switch and call him hers, a simple shift in their dynamic, but one all three of them have cherished and delighted in since it happened.

"I was so lost, and heartbroken, and I... I just never thought I'd have this," she admits, her voice a choked whisper as she leans into his touch when his hand cups her cheek.

"You've protected me, risked your life for me. No one's ever demonstrated that much love for me before," Regina continues, turning her face to place a kiss on his palm. "You've always had faith in me, stood by me even when the secrecy of our relationship was hurting you, even when I couldn't tell you how much I love you... and I do love you, Robin, so much."

He's sitting up now, enough for his lips to reach her forehead and linger there, his eyes closed as he breathes her in, her nails raking over his stomach between them.

"I love you, too," he responds, pulls back to look into her eyes, and then kisses her slowly, deeply, tongue playing with hers as their exchange grows in heat, her tearful declaration transforming when she finds her voice again and pushes him to lie back down, hovering above him, her nipples brushing over his chest.

"You're kind, and generous, and a wonderful father," she murmurs between kisses as she travels down his upper body. "You're smart, and sexy," she adds as she dips her tongue into the ridge of his abs, making him laugh and squirm a little. "You encourage me to follow my dreams, to trust myself, I never would've gotten here if it wasn't for you."

He gives her a tender smile at that, just as she pulls away from his body to look at him.

"You've saved my life in so many ways, have _loved_ me in so many ways."

"Loving you is no hardship, Regina," he says, his smile prompting one of her own right before she kisses the tip of his nose from where she looms over him.

"I always thought being president would be my greatest accomplishment."

"It's not?" he asks curiously, and it's such an innocent question that it makes her giggle through the tears that fall down her face.

"No," she answers with a small shake of her head. "My greatest accomplishment is making you happy."

Regina has no words to describe the smile he gives her then, but she knows it will forever be burned into her memory. It's a brief thing, only lasts a split second before he's kissing her again, both of them shifting so that their legs are no longer hanging from the side of the bed, but stretched out on the mattress, her hair splayed against the pillows as Robin hovers above her.

His lips blaze a trail down her neck, her chest, find a nipple and suck, his tongue swirling around it as she moans his name, one hand threading into his hair.

He moves to her other breast, nips at the swell before treating that nipple to the same toe-curling sucks and licks as the first, grunting and telling her how beautiful she is before he sucks again, his breathing hot on her skin.

She's so caught up in his mouth, in the way his tongue works wonders on her nipples, that she doesn't notice his hand travel down her body. Doesn't feel the ghosting touch of his fingers over her abdomen until they're low on her navel, drifting lower still and shifting her panties aside a little more. He teases her wet folds at first by spreading them open a bit, and then two of those fingers are inside her, pumping in and out at a slow, deep rhythm that has her crying out for more, her legs opening wider beneath him.

He stops altogether, moves backwards on his knees to settle properly between her thighs, hooks fingers around the lace and pulls it down her legs, making sure it doesn't catch on her garter before he removes the undergarment completely and tosses it to the floor.

"I love this," he tells her as he fiddles with the frilly elastic around her left thigh. He leans in just above her, hands on either side of her on the bed as he kisses her fiercely for a few incredible seconds.

He parts their lips wetly to move back down, grabbing the garter with his teeth and dragging it down her thigh. Regina whimpers as he goes, the soft graze of his stubble against her leg sending little frissons of pleasure through her whole body.

The garter is off in seconds, and Robin looms back over her with it still in his teeth, looking so pleased with himself it has her hooking a finger around the accessory hanging from his mouth and pulling, letting it go and watching it snap against his nose with a laugh.

He drops it then. Smirks as he lets it fall somewhere next to them on the bed. And then scoots down her body once more, digs his fingers gently into her thighs, pulling them further apart before he finally brings his tongue to where she's aching for it.

He laps at the wetness gathered between her thighs, moaning softly before he starts sucking at her clit, eliciting a very unladylike mewl from her as she arches her back off the bed and circles her hips into his mouth.

"Oh, yes! Yes, just like that," Regina exclaims as he goes deeper, faster, harder, two fingers going in and curling downward in that mind blowing trick he does. She loves that, loves the unexpected feeling of being filled and fucked when it's only his fingers making their way inside her. It's amazing, has her licking her dry lips and almost screaming as his tongue moves back to her clit, flicking and savoring in quick strokes.

All this time, she's had her eyes half closed, shutting tightly every now and then, because the sight of him fucking her with his tongue is doing all sorts of things to her, and she wants to last, wants to prolong this delicious feeling as much as possible.

But when she chances a look, notices his free hand is wedged down between him and the sheets, moving hurriedly up and down as he pumps his cock over his trousers, Regina can't handle it. Can't resist the urge to just look and feel at the same time, to cry out his name while she watches him lap eagerly at her, and she's getting so wet, so, so wet, she's not going to last much longer.

"Robin, please," she gasps, "I'm gonna— oh, _god_!"

"Are you going to come for me?" he whispers seductively, intensifying the movement of his fingers as they slap into her, upwards this time to find her G-spot, the wet sounds erupting from the action making her moan loudly.

"I need— I... _Mmh_! You feel so good, I— oh, _fuck_! Don't stop."

That's not what she means to say, she _wants_ him to stop, because she's going to come on his tongue without bestowing any attention on him, and she doesn't want that, wants him just as riled up as she is.

"Come up here and kiss me," she begs, and whines a little at the loss of his mouth on her, but kisses him eagerly when his lips finally meet hers. Her arms wrap around him as she shifts, turning them so that it's him with his back against the sheets.

She sits beside him, her hands working at undoing his pants and pulling them down and off his body before she settles atop him. He thinks she's going to take him inside her now, she can see it in his eyes, dark with desire and that desperate need to feel her, but then she grins naughtily and turns around. She's fully straddling him now, facing the foot of the bed so that he has ample view of her back and ass as she sinks lower and takes his hard cock in her hand.

"Oh, fuck!" he moans, adding a "Yes! Don't stop," in a strangled voice when Regina scoots up his body to get comfortable and then sucks at his tip, pulling back his foreskin to lick at the ridge there.

She takes him in slowly, her tongue wrapping around his shaft as she gets him wet with her spit and hard with her attentions. His hands are then grasping her rear, bringing it closer to his mouth as he spreads her open and licks her glistening sex again.

It's good, unbelievably so, the new angle doing something to the way he laps at her clit that has her rolling her hips, grinding herself against his face slowly as he keeps sucking and probing at her, thrusting two fingers back inside her.

His mouth leaves her to groan a muffled, "Shit! that feels so good," when the tip of him hits the back of her throat, and her hands knead at his balls as she keeps bobbing her head up and down his shaft, her tongue flat against the smooth skin.

She lets him go on a particularly sharp suck to her clit, letting out a moan against his thigh as her hips rock just a little faster, Robin's muffled _Mmm_ causing all sorts of vibrations that have her so on the edge of that precipice, she loudly begs for more.

"I'm so close, babe, so close," she yells out before taking his cock back into her mouth, her actions sloppier now as he sucks hard at her again.

"Let go, my love. I want to taste you. Come for me," he murmurs against her folds, before ramming his tongue inside her as his fingers play with her clit.

" _Yesss_!" she yells, because it's all just too good. The sensation of his tongue on her, the graze of her nipples against his navel, the feeling of his cock warm and hard between her lips...

He bobs out of her mouth again when she comes, with a cry of _Robin!_ and a frantic rolling of her hips above him, the ecstatic peak of her orgasm prolonged by the way he licks and sucks the new wetness, drinking her in and moaning at the taste of her on his tongue.

With what little strength she has left, Regina lifts her hips, moves her leg to the other side and lands on the bed on her back, shifting to lie next to him, their shoulders brushing.

Robin sits up and turns to her, trails a hand up the span of one leg, finding his way to her clit and giving her a cursory rub, a smug smile appearing on his face when her body jerks at the feeling, too sensitive to withstand any more attention at the moment.

"I forgot that one," he says, and she looks at him, confused.

"For the vows," he continues, "I forgot to tell you how much I love it when I make you come with my mouth."

She laughs at that, shakes her head at him, because only Robin can say something so... dirty, and still make it sound adorable and sweet.

"My husband, the romantic," she plays with him, her hand finding his cock again and pumping him lazily as she regains her strength, calms her labored breathing.

"Mmm," he moans quietly, "that feels good."

"Wait til I take you inside me," she winks, making him smirk as he rolls them over, kissing her long and deep, his tongue tasting vaguely of her.

He strays from her mouth to suckle kisses at her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, down and down until his lips latch on to a nipple, sucking as he squeezes the other breast with his hand. His teeth graze the stiff peak while Regina starts to arch beneath him, searching for friction as he grinds against her slowly, the tip of his cock barely touching her clit.

She's had enough time to recover, is now letting his talented tongue stoke her arousal, until it's simmering inside of her, her hands raking over his hair as he moves further down.

He takes up his post at her sex again, one hand on her thigh, keeping her spread wide for him, the other pumping his hardness as he ravishes her.

His mouth is relentless as it takes her, tongue plunging inside her and out, in and out, seeking the wetness building up again, and he moans when she gasps his name, stops his actions to look up at her.

"God, you're exquisite," he rasps, bending back to his task before she can answer, eliciting a whimper from her when he sucks her clit into his mouth, hard, his tongue fast and firm as it licks her. Any coherency she may have had before now melts away as she surrenders to the feeling, to the endless bout of pleasure he's providing her with, his finger thrusting into her as he continues to suck her clit.

"Fuck me, Robin, please!" she begs, unable to handle the teasing anymore, she needs him inside her _now_.

He rises, looks at her for a moment, and then settles between her legs, her knees bending up as he works his way in slowly, teasing her clit with his tip before entering her.

"Mmmnaah!" she moans nonsensically, reveling in the languid rhythm of his hips as he moves in and out of her, letting her feel as his cock leaves her and then re-enters her inch by delicious inch, until on the fourth pass, he stays, buried to the hilt inside her.

"I love you so much," Robin mutters into her neck as he sinks down against her, her nipples tickling when they graze his chest. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he presses his body into hers, warming her skin as he rolls his hips lazily. Regina screams at the exquisite burn of his cock as it stretches her.

His hands are placed flat against the mattress on either side of her, but his right abandons its post to wrap around the back of her neck, propping her head up. His forehead then falls to hers, their breaths mingling as he starts to move faster.

It feels incredible. The way her legs are positioned open her wider, allowing him to get deeper, until he's hitting that marvelous spot inside her over and over again, her gasps swallowed by his mouth as he kisses her, still thrusting hard and fast into her.

"God!" she exhales against him, grabbing desperately on to his arm, fingers circling his wrist and gripping firmly. Robin groans when she rocks her hips to meet him thrust for thrust, and her teeth bite lazily into his lower lip, their noses bumping together as the pleasure builds and builds.

"Are you close?" he chokes out, his face screwed up, neck tense as he tries to hold on, to wait for her.

Regina nods frantically, forehead brushing his as she does, and he slams into her so hard on the next pass that he hits just the right spot to make her writhe. The harder he goes, the more his body grazes her clit on impact, and it's incredible, has her bucking her hips wildly as she breathes out a strangled "Again! Fuck, _yes_. Right there."

He obeys, moves in the exact same way and hits that spot again, brushes her clit one more time, and she can hardly contain the scream that leaves her, the hand not wrapped around his arm moving down to grasp his ass, nails digging in as she tries to push him deeper in the next thrust.

"Oh, god, it feels so good, babe, don't stop!" she exclaims into the warm air between them, and they're both open-mouthed, breathing fast and shallow as he moves, that hand on the back of her neck gripping tighter, pulling slightly at her hair.

And then she's there, and her entire body explodes in a whirlwind of incredible sensation. The orgasm seizes her suddenly, making her squeeze around him as she licks at his upper lip, and that's all it takes for him to come with her, pumping himself inside her over and over as he reaches his peak, his gasps forming a melody that echoes in her head even after he's pulled out of her and they've collapsed on tired limbs next to each other.

She seeks out his mouth, kisses him deeply, hungrily, moans low in her throat as he kneads her left breast and kisses back, until the exchange eases into something more tender. Wet tongues move languidly as they let their bodies rest, hers cuddling into his, her hand over his chest as his arm wraps around her shoulders and pulls her close.

They settle, the sound of their lips parting and meeting again the only thing disturbing the quiet atmosphere around them. Loving caresses are exchanged for the next few minutes, neither of them saying a word, only enjoying each other, touching and rediscovering skin, kissing birthmarks and trailing fingers over bullet scars that weren't there a year ago.

* * *

"Tell me your favorite memory of us," Regina says later, after they've stopped moving and have been dozing in each other's arms for a few minutes.

"Favorite memory?"

"Yeah, your favorite moment."

"This. Right here. Right now," Robin answers, without question or hesitation, his arm tightening around her as he lands a kiss on her brow. "You?"

She thinks for a bit, tries to recall all the priceless moments in their history together.

She has many highlights. Meeting him, for one. The first time they kissed. The pancakes he'd made for her at four in the morning the first time she slept over. That night where he'd jokingly talked about saving the queen with tea and crumpets in hand...

There are other, more emotionally charged events as well. Seeing him after she woke up from her surgery, for example, and the day he proposed to her, and watching him as she walked down that aisle earlier today... their story is full of beautiful moments, but the more Regina reminisces, the more she realizes nothing is better than this very instant, this blissful reprieve after having married the love of her life.

So when she answers, it's with a smile, a kiss to his chest, and a sure voice that quotes his exact words.

"This. Right here. Right now."


	23. Wild

_Tumblr Prompt: Sex in the oval office (so basically just shameless smut)._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

"You're doing it again," she says, but her voice is too breathy for it to carry the proper chiding, caught up as she is in the sinful swirls of his tongue against her neck.

"Doing what?" Robin asks from where he stands behind her, like he has no idea he's driving her insane with the sucking kisses he's now planting by her collarbone.

"You know perfectly well what," she practically groans, her hands dropping the folder they'd been holding on the corner of her desk, her head falling slowly to the side to give more room to his wandering lips. "I've told you not to distract me while I work."

"You've been working all day," he murmurs against that spot by her jaw that makes her squirm when he kisses it. "Take a break."

"Presidents don't get brea— _mmm_ ," she moans when his hands come up from behind her and cup her breasts over her blouse. He breathes out a satisfied laugh, kneads the swells more firmly, his teeth gently raking over her skin.

"What if we loosen these up a bit, hm?" he mutters as his fingers deftly start to play with the buttons on her shirt, undoing them one by one while his lips drop kiss after kiss down her neck and back up again.

"Robin, we're in the oval office," she remarks, but it sounds lazy even to her, her lips suddenly dry when her husband pushes fabric aside and pulls down the cups of her bra, fingers rolling her nipples as he rests his chin on her shoulder, watching the movement of his hands as they squeeze and fondle her.

"Mm, yes we are," he acknowledges, "and personally, I think it's quite a shame you've been president for almost a full term and we've yet to christen this place."

She says nothing for a moment, only licks her lips and arches her back into his touch, his hands still playing with her breasts, still kneading and teasing.

"We were interrupted last time, remember?" she whispers. "Don't want a repeat of that."

"And that is why I came in after Roland's bedtime, and locked the main door," he insists, his voice husky and delicious as it rumbles against her.

"The study side door is half-open, though," she remarks in a needy tone. "Someone could hear."

"There's no one around," Robin continues. "Besides, you've no idea..." he says as he sucks at her neck again, "how many times I've wanted to take you right here, on this desk. Just bend you over and have my way with you."

She whimpers at that, pressing her thighs together as wetness builds between them, her hand darting back to play with the hair at the back of his neck as she pushes against him, his chest flush against her back as they turn their heads into each other and kiss sloppily.

"Still want me to leave and let you work?" he asks then, smiling smugly at her while his hand travels down her body, teases the skin under her now-untucked blouse.

"I suppose a break would be a good idea," Regina answers, turning fully around to face him and moaning loudly when his mouth descends on her, feasting on her left nipple, sucking and licking until she's panting.

He bestows the same attention on the other pert peak, and Regina threads her hand into his hair, pulling at it slightly as she rolls her hips instinctively against him.

"I want you," he rasps into her mouth, his moan swallowed by her own when he shoves one hand into her pants and touches the wet, slick skin of her.

"Really? I had no idea," she jokes breathily, laughing with him for a moment before they're back at it, his lips wonderful and needy, his tongue velvety and warm as it toys with hers.

Her clothes are gone before she even registers what's happening, and Robin's pants and underwear are suddenly pooling on the floor along with her own, his hands skimming around her waist until they slip down to her rear, squeezing there as he presses her closer to him, their mouths practically attacking each other for long, delicious seconds.

It suddenly hits her when he starts rubbing at her clit, that she's _naked_ in the oval office. Naked and wet and panting as her very attractive sex god of a husband works his magic fingers inside her, building her up and up and up until she's begging for release.

He doesn't give it to her, though, stops touching her just as she sinks her teeth into his shoulder and wraps an arm around him, ready to come on his hand and scream the entire building down in the process. Instead she lets out a frustrated whine, pulls back to look at him in annoyance.

He's grinning at her, his other hand squeezing at her waist and pressing her against his hard cock, the tip of him bumping against her lower stomach.

His teeth latch onto her bottom lip and pull gently, let go just so he can whisper five words that have her body flaring with heat.

"Turn around, and bend over."

She can't help the full, throaty moan she lets out at his command, does just as he instructs as she kicks her clothes out of the way, so that her feet are firmly planted on the lush carpet as she stretches her upper body face-down on the desk.

Robin leaves her there, sets about removing as many items from the table as possible, and then he's back to standing behind her, kneeling and grabbing the backs of her thighs, spreading her open and then giving her a slow lick from her clit to her entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet, my love," he murmurs against her, rubbing a finger along her slit before he goes back in and licks again, letting his tongue venture inside her and circle there before he darts it back out and down to her clit. Regina moans, her hands roaming the near-empty surface of the desk for something to hold on to, until her fingers catch on the carved edge and squeeze, her knuckles going white with the strength of her grip.

"God, Robin, please," she begs, and she doesn't know exactly what she's begging for. He's there, with his tongue inside her, bringing her pleasure beyond belief, and yet she's asking for something... for more.

He doesn't dawdle, applies more pressure to her clit with his tongue, laps and sucks at her rhythmically, picking up speed as her shallow breaths get louder and louder, transforming into whimpers and moans of his name as she grips the desk tighter and opens her legs just a tad more, just enough for the tip of his tongue to slip further into her, and oh, _god_ , this is incredible.

His finger is inside her next, pushing up towards that spot that unravels her, and when he finds it, when he presses hard against it on the next thrust of his hand, she screams, the sound muffled against her arm. She bites there, trying to keep the sounds at bay, but not even the mortifying threat of someone hearing her and coming in is enough to stop the orgasm from building, that coil inside her tightening more and more with every pass of Robin's tongue over her clit.

"That feels amazing," she blabs, rolling her hips without thinking, enjoying the shift of his hand as it finds a better angle to fuck her with, and _why_ was she resisting this, again? It feels so good. _So good_.

"Don't stop!" she pleads, and " _Fuck_ , I'm so close, babe, so close."

"Do you want me to make you come?" he asks, "Tell me, Regina."

"Yes. God, yes!" she moans, pushing back against his hand when he adds a second finger, her self control shattering as she lets out another scream, one that isn't muffled this time, but she no longer cares. And yes, maybe having the door to the study ajar means the soundproofing features within the office aren't working right now, but it's late, just after ten, Robin is right, there's probably no one arou—

"Ma'am, are you there? I was doing my rounds and heard something, is everything okay?" a voice asks from the other side of the main door, accompanied by a light knock. John. Of course.

"Yes, Agent Little, everything is fine," she calls out, trying her best to not sound breathy and wanton, even when Robin lets out a smug little laugh and rams his fingers harder into her. "I just, I— _god, yes, right there_ ," she exhales, hoping John didn't hear that particular bit as she raises her voice to add, "I just... tripped... on my way to the file cabinet, that's all." She's gasping between words, half moaning her excuse, and she knows she'll be terribly embarrassed in the morning, but for now all she cares about is getting John as far away from her office as possible. "I'm okay. You can return to your station."

"Alright, ma'am, I'll be standing by upstairs if you need me," John says from the other side of the door, and then it's back to the delicious pumping of Robin's fingers inside her, his mouth closing around her clit and sucking hard on one particularly strong thrust of his hand. And then she's coming, gasping and writhing under his touch as she muffles her next scream against her arm once more, her hips circling slowly as they ride out her orgasm on his nimble digits.

God, this was a good idea.

She's sweaty, her skin sticking a bit to the wooden surface beneath her, but she feels fantastic.

"Robin, I need you to..." she trails off on a tiny moan, as he leans in to plant a kiss on her too-sensitive clit.

"Need me to what, Madam President?" he teases, withdrawing his mouth from her and landing little kisses along her rear, down to the back of her thighs, and she gasps out for him, shakes her ass a bit to try and tell him what she wants, too tired to speak. The little jiggle brings about a strangled moan from Robin, his teeth nipping at her left cheek. And still he waits, doesn't move to do more. He wants her to say it.

So she does.

She doesn't know how, doesn't know when exactly it is that she finds her sass and her voice again, but she does, she finds them, and then rasps, in the most firm tone she can muster, "I need you to fuck me."

He needs no more encouragement than that, is up and spreading her legs a little further as he caresses her ass, moves that same hand up her back and into her hair, playing with the soft tresses as he presses closer to her, his shaft moving in and out between her legs, rubbing along her clit and her entrance, the wetness there coating him as she moans out loud.

He enters her on the next pass, one smooth stroke that has him buried to the hilt inside her, his torso bending over her, his chest pressed tight against her back as he kisses the side of her neck and then brings his nose to her hair, grunting his ecstasy as he tells her how good she smells, how perfect she feels, how tight, how warm, how slick.

"Fuck, I love being inside you," he mumbles into her hair, and then he's thrusting, building a rhythm as he goes, fast and unrelenting, hitting that spot inside her again, riling her up once more. She didn't think she'd come again, but the harder he goes, the better it feels, and in minutes she's grasping the edge of the desk again, groaning at the dull sound of his skin slapping against hers over and over.

"Oh, god, _yes_! Just like that," she tells him, and then she feels her body being pulled up. He's bringing her with him, pulling her flush against him as he rises, one arm wrapped around the front of her, just over her breasts, pressing her tightly to him, and then that hand is on her neck, gentle but firm, pulling her head back until his mouth is at her jaw. His other arm loops around her waist, pressing into her belly and causing a new wave of sensation to hit as he pounds into her.

Her hair is a mess, sweaty and sticking to her face, but it adds to the thrill of it all, to the wild abandon with which he's fucking her against the desk. The arm on her waist falls slightly, so that his fingers can reach her clit and rub and rub just as the hand on her chest finds a breast and kneads, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

"Oh, fuuuuuuuck!" she yells out when he sinks his teeth into her shoulder and rams his cock harder and harder inside her, hitting her G-spot with perfect pressure, making stars erupt behind her eyelids as she comes again, slamming her hips back into his and arching her back away from his chest, pushing her breast more insistently into his hand.

"Fuck, that's beautiful," he husks as he gives her nipple another squeeze, slows his rhythm to bring her down from her high, but she doesn't want that.

"Don't stop," she whispers, gasping for breath as she moves her hips more insistently.

"Are you sure?" she feels him ask against her neck, his hand moving in a soothing path up and down her arm from behind her. Regina nods furiously, bites her lip as she closes her eyes and presses back against him.

"I'm sure," she insists, "go hard again. I want to feel you."

With that, Robin picks back up, and comes with a cry of her name less than a dozen thrusts later, his hands both moving to cup her breasts as he spasms and empties himself inside her.

They collapse on the desk, letting the worn wood support their upper bodies as they sag against it. Regina's legs are weak, shaky, but Robin is right behind her, his body a welcome weight atop her, his lips peppering tiny kisses along her back, one hand pushing her hair to the side as they both catch their breath.

"That was..." she trails off, panting still, "that was a good break."

She feels him laugh above her, the quiet snicker he lets out blowing hot air over the skin of her back.

"I'd say so," he agrees, dropping a kiss just over her shoulder blade.

"This desk was a gift from Queen Victoria, you know," she says, chastising him, chastising them both, really, but she can't bring herself to feel one bit sorry for what has just transpired.

Robin laughs again, rises and brings her with him, plopping himself on her chair and sitting her on his lap. His hand rises to her face, index finger running down the bridge of her nose before he cups her cheek, and she leans into the touch, looks at him expectantly.

He shakes his head at her, moves in to kiss her lips.

"God save the queen," he whispers against her mouth, and it makes laughter bubble up and out of her as she cuddles closer into his warm embrace.

They stay there, naked and sated in the oval office, until sleep begins to take over, forcing them out of their comfy cocoon and back to their room.

As they leave her work space, however, Regina can't help but turn back, grinning saucily at the mahogany marvel where her husband has just made her come. Twice.

God save the queen, indeed.


	24. Guilt

**_Based on a Tumblr prompt from the lovely audreyslove (have you read her stuff yet? It's GLORIOUS!)._**

 ** _Prompt: Robin and Regina go through the anniversary of Daniel's death for the first time as a couple._**

* * *

The anniversary of Daniel's death is always the worst day of the year for her, closely followed by their wedding anniversary a couple months later. There's been two of each now, and she's just reached the third set, only this time, it's not grief that eats at her, but guilt. Guilt that she's moved on, guilt that she's found happiness again.

Guilt that she has Robin.

It's been three years since her husband's death, and a few months since she and Robin first started exploring the attraction between them. Logically she knows that she shouldn't feel bad for it, that Daniel would want her to be happy. But logic and soul are too different things, and her soul is plagued with dread, with the horrible feeling that she's cheating on her husband.

She pushes Robin away that week, snaps at him and drives him out of her office with bitter remarks and a nasty bite to her every word. She can see the vein on his forehead straining, knows she's pushing his buttons way too much, but in the moment, she doesn't really care.

When the day arrives, she leaves the mansion just after dawn, sneaks out to her Mercedes and drives off without an escort. Her staff is smart, but she knows who to talk to if she needs a few minutes to escape. It's not something she does often, but today, it is sorely needed.

She buys roses. White, like the ones he used to leave on her desk in the morning sometimes, just because he felt like it. It's a tradition of hers now, to bring him those exact flowers and discuss her life with him for the past year. To tell him what she's done, how she's felt. Daniel was her best friend before Roland came along, and she still has the need to just _talk_ to him, to listen to his laugh as she tells him stories. To discuss her successes and grievances with him the way she used to.

It hurts. She suspects it always will. But today it's not just the pain of loss that she's been feeling these past years. It's also the air of betrayal she carries, the dreaded weight of having to tell your husband you've fallen in love with someone else.

"Hi, Daniel," she says as she sets the roses in front of his tombstone, sitting down on the grass. It's wet, and she can almost hear her mother saying it will stain her very pristine, very expensive outfit.

Regina couldn't care less.

She sighs then, readies herself to speak, the words tumbling out of her after minutes of careful consideration.

"This year's been slightly less miserable. Roland can say my name now! None of that horrid 'Gina' business anymore. He's grown up so much, Daniel. He's beautiful. And he likes to cook. Or at least, he likes to help me when I do. I don't know if it's because he truly enjoys it or because I let him eat chocolate chips while we bake cookies, but it's the best part of my week."

She stops for a second, taking a few deep breaths before she continues.

"Work has been hectic, as usual, but I love it. You already knew that, of course, but I felt it needed saying. We, um, we added some new ordinances to help our criminal justice system, and they've worked out so well. I also started a new agency of sorts, to rescue and care for homeless animals. I thought you'd like that."

She thinks she hears a car approaching, but doesn't really pay much attention to it. Her team would probably tell her to stand, so that the public doesn't see her as weak and sad. But it's Daniel, and it's her, and Regina has no intention of putting on the Governor facade while she's doing this.

"Now we have rescue centers all over the state," she continues, "and we find loving homes for abandoned and mistreated animals. Your old boss at the vet clinic even agreed to do consultations for free. I named him head of the project though, so don't worry, he'll be getting paid anyway. I know how much you looked up to him, so I figured this would be a good way to thank him for everything he did for you. We talked about you over lunch the other day, he was very fond of you, and very proud."

She laughs, pauses, then speaks again.

"They've been talking to me about running for President in the next elections. I... I think I want to do it, Daniel. I know it'll be crazy, but I feel like the time is right, don't you? I wish you could be here to see it. And to talk me down from the ledge. I'm sure I'll become insufferable once the process starts, and there's so much I haven't considered yet, so I'll keep you updated on that. So far, though, I'm leaning towards running. I think I could do a lot for this country if I'm given the opportunity."

She sighs again, wringing her hands together as she tries to find a good way to say what she should've said the second she arrived.

"I miss you. I miss us. I think there won't ever be a time when I don't. But I wanted to tell you that I..." she trails off, a sob breaking out of her as she surrenders to the guilt, "I... I didn't mean for it to happen, Daniel, I really didn't. But Robin, he... he cares, and I... I love him. I'm sorry."

She breaks down then, tears rolling nonstop down her cheeks as she tries to explain herself, feeling worse by the second.

"I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this. You told me before you left, you told me to be happy, to love again, and now I do and I can't... I can't say it. I can't tell him how I feel because it hurts me to think about it, it hurts to think that once it's out there, once it's _real_ , I could lose him like... like I lost you."

There are sobs wracking her, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she rocks herself back and forth, trying to find solace that never comes. She wants to feel Daniel's arms wrapping around her, wants to hear him say it's alright, but it isn't Daniel who does it now, it's Robin.

She's startled by the touch, turns around to find him there, crouching before her with a kind smile. His eyes full of nothing but concern and devotion as they stare at her.

"Regina," he says, and she knows he's about to say more, about to use that wonderful voice and that beautiful accent of his to tell her everything's going to be fine, but she doesn't let him.

Instead, she launches herself at him, winds her arms tightly around his neck and just hugs him, apologizing through choked whispers in his ear and letting him rock her back and forth, back and forth. His hand then runs up and down her back as he tells her she has nothing to apologize for.

"I knew this would be a hard time for you. I just didn't know how to help."

"I'm sorry," she says again, "I didn't want you to think that I regret this. Us. Because I don't. Not at all. But... he was my husband, Robin. And this whole week I've been feeling like I... like I betrayed him somehow."

"You didn't," he tells her, pulling back to look at her face, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing gently over the apple of it, wiping tears away in the process. "It's okay to want happiness again, Regina. Daniel wouldn't have wanted you to be miserable."

"I know," she says with a sigh, "I just... I-"

"I know," Robin interrupts, a small grin tipping up the corners of his lips. "It's alright. We'll be alright."

There's no one around. No one knows she's here, after all, so the local press probably won't show up until way later in the day, hoping she'll appear and they can get a picture. Regina is glad she's fooling them for once.

"I miss him, too, you know," Robin says as he sits beside her. His arm is wrapped around her, pressing her side against his, her head resting on his shoulder as his free hand holds on to hers over her knee. "He was the first friend I ever made here."

"I'm sorry," she says yet again, raising her head to look at him. "I was so trapped in my own head, I didn't even stop to think this would be a hard day for you, too."

"I told you, it's alright."

"Do you think he would approve? Of us, I mean." She hadn't had the courage to ask before, dreading the answer, but Robin only grips her tighter, kisses the top of her head and leans his cheek there as he replies.

"I think he would approve of anything that made you happy. He loved you more than anything."

She smiles tearfully at that. "He did, didn't he?"

"As you loved him," Robin continues, and for a moment she feels guilty again, but for Robin this time. She knows she shouldn't, but the feeling is there, because they're talking about her having loved another man, and she doesn't want Robin to thi—

"Stop thinking," he says then, and it's scary how he knows her. Scary, but comforting at the same time.

"He was your husband," Robin continues, "and you loved each other. I saw it all the time, in both of you. You're not neglecting me by acknowledging that, Regina. We're here now, and this is true, but so was your marriage, and I would never want to take away from that."

"Thank you," she breathes. "For understanding."

They spend a long time there, sharing anecdotes. Robin tells her of the times he and Daniel would sneak a beer or two while she made dinner, tells her of their chess matches and their games with Roland at the clinic. How Daniel would try to teach him how to clean the wounded animals and check them over, but Roland was too busy petting them and playing with them to pay attention.

She realizes they'd never talked about Daniel before, not like this, and it's a comfort to see her husband through Robin's eyes, to see the genuine brotherly affection they had for one another.

The guilt starts to ebb away with every story, and by the time the sun is up right above them, drying the drops of morning dew still clinging to the grass beneath them, her heart feels lighter, her emotions more at ease, and it's Robin's hand on her lower back that grounds her, that brings her comfort as she kisses the tips of her fingers and then presses them to the marble headstone before her.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" she whispers to empty air, hoping that somewhere, somehow, Daniel can hear her, that he's smiling, that he's proud of her.

He is her _past_. A past she's fond of, a past she would choose over and over again despite the moments of loss and pain it brought her. A past where she was happy, and safe, and loved.

But as the sun shines down on her, as her _present_ grabs her hand and flashes her that set of dimples that melt her, looks at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, Regina finds that she's ready for the future.

Ready to prove to herself and everyone else what she's capable of.


	25. Grief

**_READ THIS NOTE BEFORE YOU GO ANY FURTHER:_**

 ** _This one-shot depicts a bit of Dragon Queen action (no sex, but definitely some making out), you've been warned._**

 ** _It's been part of my head canon for this story since before I started writing it, that Regina and Mal had a bit of a moment when Regina was sad and needed comfort. I was asked by friends to write it out so here it is._**

 ** _Keep in mind all you're about to read happened BEFORE Robin and Regina got together in this verse. There's a bit of OQ friendship at the start and at the end, but if Dragon Queen isn't your thing, you should skip this one (or skip the middle? Lol)._**

* * *

It's been a year.

A full year since she watched her husband's eyes close for the final time, and Regina is in shambles.

She's had better days than this. Days where Robin has her comfort foods at the ready and Roland gives her a smile that keeps her afloat, days where work is so busy she has no time to wallow.

But today, Ingrid has made the mistake of clearing her schedule, thinking she would need the day off to deal with Daniel's death all over again.

She'd appreciated it at first. Had taken a car to the cemetery and placed a bouquet of white roses at his grave. Had sat down on the soft grass and told him things. But that part of her day is over, and she's home now, alone in a giant house that no longer holds any of the joy it once did.

She misses talking to Daniel, misses the way he'd comfort her and reassure her when she wasn't even aware she needed it. Misses how he would joke with her and kiss her cheek when she rolled her eyes at his teasing, how the warmth of him would lull her to sleep on cold nights, how he'd wake her with freshly brewed coffee and a gentle caress down her arm. She even misses the bad days, the ones they'd suffered towards the end, when all she could do was make him comfortable and join him on his hospital bed, feel his fingers weakly massage her scalp to soothe her...

Mid-afternoon has her in yoga pants and one of the old T-shirts of his she didn't have the heart to give away. Her eyes are red from crying, her cheeks puffy and her makeup smeared all over her face, and then the doorbell rings.

She's dismissed her staff for the day, wanting to be alone for a while, so the task of opening the door and sending away whoever's behind it now falls to her. She should probably make herself presentable, should at the very least wipe off the smudged mascara and eyeliner, but her husband is dead, dammit, she couldn't care less about her looks right now.

She's pleasantly surprised to find Robin on the other side of the door, carrying a bouncy Roland against his hip. She laughs a little when he does that adorable, giggly baby scream when he sees her, extends his chubby arms for her to take him into hers.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asks with an upbeat tone, grinning a little at Roland as he giggles again and yells out "Gina!" like she's his favorite toy in the whole world.

"Thought you might like the company," Robin says sheepishly, and it's only then that she realizes he's holding a small brown paper bag in his hand.

"What's that?" she points to the bag, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Well, I, uh, we, we brought you cookies. It's silly, I know, but... always makes me feel better," he stammers, and Regina finds it, well, adorable, to be honest, tears building in her eyes as she props Roland more comfortably against her and steps aside to let Robin in.

"Not silly at all. I could use a cookie or ten," she tells him, and she means it, too. She's always had a sweet tooth, and Robin has brought her her ultimate comfort food. She'd be a fool to refuse.

There's a carton of milk in the fridge, and Regina retrieves it with her free hand while Roland is still happily perched on her hip. She pours one-handed, taking a sip from her glass and offering some to the rosy-cheeked toddler while Robin empties the bag on a small plate.

They eat in silence, interrupted only by Roland's babbling and his excited shouts over the bites of chocolate chip cookie they feed him. The treats really do help, make something inside her ease a little, and so she grabs another, and another, stuffs herself with the chocolaty goodness until she's downed most of her milk and only one whole cookie and Roland's half-chewed piece remain.

"Thanks for this," she says then, extending the arm not wrapped around Roland across the table, her hand grabbing Robin's and squeezing. "I really needed it."

"Happy to help," he returns with a smile. "I wasn't sure if... I just knew it wasn't going to be a good day for you, I didn't want you to be alone."

"I've had better days, yeah," she admits, "but this helped. So again, thank you."

He has yet to let go of her hand, so she squeezes again, a more final sort of gesture this time as she withdraws her fingers from his grasp, brings that hand back to her lap to settle on Roland's round tummy.

"Do you want to watch a movie, Roland?" she asks, and the baby perks up right away, claps his hands repeatedly as he shouts "Yay!" over and over again.

"Actually, we should really be going," Robin interrupts, and the boy immediately pouts. "We just came to deliver the cookies. I should get him back to Ashley so I can go back to the office."

"Everything okay?" she knows someone would've briefed her by now if anything had gone down, but she still worries, doesn't want to slack off on the job even if she does have today to herself.

"Everything's fine, just some routine stuff I'm a bit behind on," he assures her with a tender smile, and then he's heading to the sink, rinsing the cookie plate (despite her insistence that he really doesn't need to do that), and cleaning up the crumbs left by Roland on the table.

Overall, the visit doesn't last more than a half hour, but it leaves her feeling less desolate, with a smidgen of comfort easing into her otherwise dreadful day.

But just as she's heading up the stairs to her room, the doorbell rings again, and Regina lets out a frustrated huff as she turns around and heads back down to the foyer.

This time, it's not Robin who stands on her doorway, but Mal.

She's dressed casually, in fitted jeans and a thin black T-shirt, the V neck half covered by the brown leather of her jacket.

"Just wanted to stop by and make sure you weren't climbing up the walls, but it seems you already had your share of visitors for the day?" she asks in that bored, yet seductive tone of hers.

"Oh, Robin just stopped by to check on me," Regina explains. "We had milk and cookies," she adds as an afterthought.

Mal hums, blond curls shifting when she looks her up and down.

"What's that?" Regina asks then, noticing she, too, has a brown paper bag in her hand, a bigger one. Mal pulls out a bottle of tequila from its depths, offers it to her.

" _Adult_ milk and cookies," she quips, and Regina gives a light chuckle, takes the bottle from her, and whispers a _Thank you_.

"No problem," Mal insists, then tells her she'll call in the morning, but Regina stops her before she leaves.

"Wait, no. Why don't you stay? Have a drink with me," she suggests, brandishing the bottle she's just given her. She usually prefers being alone when she's having bad days like this (in fact, Robin knows this, and she suspects it's the real reason he left so soon), but right now, right now she doesn't want to be alone. Right now, she wants a friend. She wants Mal.

Mal, who looks apprehensive for a moment, but then lets her lips pull up in a smile, an amused raise of her eyebrow adding a touch of sass to her murmured, "If you insist."

She loses the leather jacket by the door, hangs it in Regina's coat rack before they both move to the living room, Mal's smile tentative as she watches Regina pour the tequila shots.

"I'll go get the salt, I don't think I have limes though," she confesses, and Mal just laughs a bit.

"We don't need any of that, Regina, we're not college kids."

She grins at that, figures her friend is right, and she really just needs that drink, why bother with the accessories? It's not like she particularly enjoys the taste of them anyway.

The clink of their shot glasses is loud in the quiet emptiness of the mansion, and it only reminds Regina of how alone she is, how lacking in warmth and joy her home has become.

She downs the shot before Mal even tastes her own. It's good tequila, goes down smoothly despite the bitter aftertaste, and before she knows it Regina is pouring herself another, getting Mal to join in by handing her the bottle without a word.

Half a bottle later, they're both sprawled on the couch in the east living room, laughing at Regina's stories of Daniel, of the silly things he used to do, the jokes he used to tell, and suddenly she feels desolate, neglected, because it's not just that she misses him (she does, though, more than anything), but she also misses that bond, misses the pure intimacy she used to have with him. Misses having someone to come home to, someone to hold at night, someone to kiss...

"I haven't kissed anyone in a year," she tells Mal, whose answering giggle is tinged with something that feels like pity, her hand moving up to play with the ends of Regina's hair.

"That's a shame," she says, and the way she's looking at her makes Regina's breath catch. "I bet you're a good kisser."

Regina doesn't know what possesses her to do it. Maybe it's her loneliness, or the tequila, or both, but one second she's there, sitting on the couch while Mal's fingers twirl around her hair and the next, she's leaning in, inching closer and closer until their lips meet.

There's no hesitation, no awkward pause where they try to figure out what is happening, it's all just... frenzied.

Mal's tongue is in her mouth in seconds, and Regina moans at the taste of it, kisses her back hard, tangles a hand in soft blonde curls and pulls her closer. She uses the momentum to drag her atop her body, until Mal is straddling her, her hands on either side of Regina's head on the arm of the couch. This isn't what Regina had intended when she invited Mal in, but Mal's mouth is warm and wet and delicious, and so she indulges, enjoys tongue-filled kisses that stoke a fire Regina hasn't felt in a very, very long time.

"Mm," Mal moans into her mouth, amending her earlier statement to, "a _very_ good kisser."

Regina giggles, then kisses her again, sucking at her lower lip and dragging her teeth over it gently. Mal whimpers, moves her hands over her arms, up from her elbows to her shoulders and then down over her chest, pausing at her breasts to grasp them both, one in each hand, and squeeze.

It feels amazing, and Regina can't believe she's doing this, can't believe she's here, letting Mal kiss her — _Mmm_ — just like that and touch her — _oh god_ — just like this. No one has done this to her since Daniel.

That thought gives her pause, has her lips slacking against Mal's, her breathing growing heavy as she pushes gently at the gentle curves that feel so, so good above her, stopping Mal's advances as she moves to sit them both up.

"You alright?" Mal asks, and Regina is still working on calming her breathing, shakes her head wordlessly in response.

Tears sting as they well up in her eyes, and one of them falls just as Mal moves closer.

"Oh, honey," she whispers, drawing Regina into her arms and pressing her head against her chest. She says nothing else, lets her cry out her sadness, her grief, her _guilt_ at having just kissed someone that isn't her husband. On the very same couch where they would take naps together, no less.

"I'm sorry," she says against Mal's shirt, sniffling as she tries to regain her composure.

"It's okay to want comfort, Regina, I won't hold that against you," her friend tells her, running a hand over her hair. "I don't think Daniel would, either."

"I shouldn't have kissed you," is all she can say, and Mal pulls her away from her embrace, tilts her head up to meet her eyes, and leans in close, so close Regina can smell the remnants of tequila on her breath, can almost nip at her plump lower lip.

"Don't apologize for that. Whatever you need, I'm here."

The statement makes Regina smile, and Mal looks pleased at having eased her worries, lands a kiss on her forehead and brings her back down to cuddle against her.

"Besides... I quite enjoyed it," Mal says, and that has Regina looking up at her curiously.

"What?" Mal defends, "You couldn't tell?"

Regina smiles at her, shakes her head and draws closer, feeling slightly better about their whole exchange when she lifts her head enough to kiss her again. Mal opens her mouth willingly, and this time it's not the wild pace they had before, nor the desperate dance of tongues and sloppy lips. This time it's slow, measured, wonderful.

Mal's tongue slides ever so gently against hers, and Regina lets out a tiny little moan as she gives as good as she's getting, one hand ghosting up Mal's body, until it latches on to the back of her neck, keeping her there as she slants her head just slightly to the side to change the angle of the kiss.

It's sweet, warm, and so slow, a kiss meant to comfort, meant to give her the physical intimacy she's been missing, and nothing else.

It fizzles out as slowly as it began, their lips locked and busy tasting, exploring, until tongues stop savoring and teeth stop grazing, and all that's left is a series of sweet pecks. One and two and three, and just as Regina is going in for the fourth, Mal pulls back, hands on either side of her face, and looks into her eyes with a tender smile.

"I'd better go," she whispers, and Regina nods reluctantly.

It seems, however, that brain has not caught up with the motions of her body, because suddenly she's blurting out a quiet "Please don't," that has Mal sitting back down on the couch, breathing deeply as she waits for her to finish.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," Regina says weakly.

Mal sighs, one perfectly manicured hand rising to play with the ends of her hair again, tucking a lock of it behind her ear and lingering by her jaw, hooking a finger under her chin and moving Regina's head up so she can look at her.

"Are you sure?"

There are tears in her eyes, her red, puffy eyes. Her hair is a mess from being pressed up against the couch cushions, she's in an old, ratty T-shirt and pajama pants, and there is alcohol on her breath. She hasn't looked at herself in the mirror all day, but Regina knows, she just knows she looks pathetic.

And still, she doesn't feel that way until she sobs out a "Please," in answer to Mal's question.

They don't have sex. In fact, they don't even sleep in the master bedroom, move instead to one of the many guest rooms in the mansion, and Regina puts on some mindless reality show on TV to serve as background noise while Mal changes into borrowed pajamas and settles on the bed beside her.

Regina wastes no time, shifts towards her and wraps an arm over her stomach, snuggling as close as possible with her head resting on Mal's right breast. She sighs when Mal's hand starts to move up and down her back, trailing her nails along it in soothing little scratching motions that soothe her, lull her.

She's asleep just as she feels the touch of Mal's lips along her hairline, and when she wakes the next day her friend is gone. Regina would think the night before had been a strange dream, except there's a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand, a tiny note left under the bottle with Mal's loopy scrawl on it.

 _Up and at 'em, your majesty._

Regina smiles, takes her aspirin, and gets ready to face the day.

* * *

She can feel his eyes on them the entire time they're talking. Can feel the confused suspicions rolling off of him in waves, waves that hit her and make her blush as Mal squeezes her hand.

She's leaving Maine tonight, now that her case is solved, and Regina cannot stop touching her, cannot stop trying to feed her need for physical comfort while she still can.

They hadn't slept together or made out again after Regina's meltdown last week, but every time Mal has been by the office and they're alone, she's made it a point to just **touch her, show her the affection she's been desperate for, and Regina could not be more grateful.

But they are not alone now, Robin is watching them. Regina feels guilty, because he is her best friend (well, Roland is, but he's too young to understand these things), and she does not want to lie to him, does not want to mislead him or make him think she's purposefully left him out of the loop.

So when Mal's phone rings, and she walks just outside to the balcony to tend to her call, Regina beckons Robin closer.

"Sit, please," she says, gesturing to the chair across her desk.

"Is everything okay?" Robin asks, brow furrowed in worry.

"Everything's fine, I just thought... there's nothing going on," she clarifies right away, her hands wringing themselves together nervously over her desk as she looks at him.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, and bless him for trying to act coy, for trying to offer her an out and respect her privacy, but this isn't the time for that. She wants him to know.

"Last week, on Daniel's anniversary? Mal showed up at my house after you left. We had a few drinks..." she trails off at the amused raise of his eyebrow, and she breathes out a little laugh, admits, "Okay, a lot of drinks. Anyway, I felt sad and alone and Mal just..."

"You slept with her," he says, not a question, but a statement, one Regina is relieved to notice has no hint of judgment whatsoever, merely curiosity.

"No, I didn't. But... we kissed. A lot."

"Are you thinking of starting something with her?" he asks her then, and she detects a dejected look on his face just a split second before it disappears, that curious stare back in place.

"No. It wasn't like that, I just... I was vulnerable, and I missed Daniel, I missed being intimate with someone, you know? Mal, she... she offered me that, and I took it."

"So all the hugging and the touching...?"

"Is just Mal trying to keep me from having another breakdown," she says, trying to laugh it off, but Robin's hand grasps hers then, squeezes tight as he looks into her eyes.

"You know I'm here, too, right? If you need me?"

Her eyes widen a bit, and she sees the moment it dawns on him how the comment sounds.

"Not like that," he says with a nervous chuckle. "Just... in general. I give great hugs, too, you know?"

Regina smiles at that, tightens her grip on his hand for a few seconds before releasing it.

"I know," she tells him, "and having you and Roland that day really did help me feel better. It was just... drinking made me realize just how miserable I was, and when I kissed her it... it just felt good to disappear from the pain and the loneliness for a while, you know?"

"I understand," he says with a small smile. "But, why are you telling me this?"

"You're my friend."

"Regina, it's your life, I understand if there are things about it you don't want me to know."

"But I did want you to know. Robin, you mean so much to me, I don't want you to ever feel like I'm hiding things from you, and don't say that's not how you felt, I could see it written all over your face earlier."

He sighs then, defeated, shakes his head with a smile and then looks up at her from across the desk.

"I just wanted to know you were alright, and you are, so no harm done."

His hand flies to his earpiece then, holding it there as he listens.

"I've to go, they're waiting for me. But thank you," he tells her, "for trusting me. And I'm happy you found some comfort with her."

"You're not mad?" she asks curiously as he stands up to leave, and Robin's tone is gentle as he replies.

"Why would I be? If it helped you feel better in any way, I'm glad you did it."

Regina nods, exhales slowly, and feels a burden she hadn't even known she was carrying lift off of her.

"I still can't stand her, though," Robin adds just as he's walking out the door.

She giggles in her amusement, shakes her head in mock exasperation, and gets back to work.


	26. Eating In

_**Remember that bit in the wedding chapter where there's a reference to Robin making Regina pancakes at 4am the first night she stayed over? Yeah, I wrote it =P**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

Regina doesn't regret last night, not one bit, and the pleasant ache between her thighs tells her her body is quite grateful she decided to act on her attraction to Robin.

It'd been... wonderful, to say the least. He'd licked and sucked and kissed every inch of her, right there on her desk, turning her office into a place that would forever remind her of him, naked and gorgeous as he made her come and come, rather than a place of work and serenity.

Regina can't say she minds.

He'd followed her up to her room after a few minutes of dozing off together in her chair, and then he'd gone home with a goofy smile on his face. One Regina shares at just this moment, when she heads downstairs after getting dressed for the day and finds him there, looking shy, yet somehow pleased with himself.

She grins, throws him a wink and then inconspicuously jerks her head to the side, towards the hallway that leads to kitchen, walking there and surreptitiously making her way inside, not five minutes after he does.

"Hi," she says, her voice low and a tad nervous, hand rising to tuck a stubborn tendril of hair behind her ear as she gives him a small smile.

"Hi," he returns, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You're early for work today," she remarks, looking at the clock and realizing he isn't obligated to turn up here at the governor's mansion for two more hours.

"Yeah, I uh, I wanted to see you before everyone else showed up," he murmurs.

"Did you?" she whispers back, and without noticing she's moved closer, her body reacting to his like a magnet. His lips are suddenly there, so close to her own that it takes everything in her not to close the tiny gap between them.

She waits and waits for him to speak, to say whatever it is he wants to say about last night, but it seems he's as entranced by their proximity as she is, and all he does it hover his mouth over hers. Look at her face and her body as his hands find purchase at her waist.

"Regina," he breathes, and _god_ , that's sexy. The way his Adam's apple keeps bobbing as he looks at her, how his voice goes low and raspy as he says her name.

She has things to do. Should head to her office right now and get to work, figure out if the missing charity money was indeed deposited into the wrong account like they suspect. But then Robin licks his lips, his hands tightening their grip on her waist as he pulls her closer, and she forgets all about her duties, too caught up in _him_ , in that warm tingle that erupts in her body at his touch.

She kisses him, tentative at first, a nervous press of her lips to his, and in seconds he's moaning, opening his mouth to welcome her tongue and moving his hands down to her ass to pick her up and turn them, pressing her against the wall as their kiss becomes wilder, wetter, _better_.

The sound of footsteps jars them apart. The kitchen crew is here, and she curses this too-large house, curses under her breath at the lack of hiding places, overrun as it is by Secret Service and staff.

Robin laughs at her little outburst. Places a quick kiss on her temple and whispers that he'll see her later, then urges her out of the kitchen through the hidden door on the right, so that no one knows she's been here.

He stays behind to greet the staff, and that's the last Regina sees of him until lunch time.

They rendezvous at her office after they finally discover the missing funds (turns out they did accidentally go to the wrong account, and have thankfully been recovered now), and are left alone by her staff as they all hurry out to get the funds deposited in the correct account this time. Regina will tolerate no more mistakes of this nature, and they know it.

Robin is brandishing some paperwork for her to sign when he comes in. Only that's not part of his job, and she smiles, amused at the lame excuse he's come up with to steal a moment with her.

"So," she says, smile still in place as she turns to face him. He's walked to her side of the desk, planted himself right next to her, so the twisting motion of her body makes her chair swivel with her, until she can lean back and watch him.

"So." Robin's reply is shy, but his finger comes to run back and forth over the bare skin of her arm, his gaze glued to the action.

Their nerves get the best of her (of him, too, she's sure), and after a few moments of silence, they both speak at the same time.

"I was thinki—"

"Would you—"

Regina laughs coyly.

"You first," she says.

"No, no. It can wait. You go."

"Robin, please. What is it?"

His hand flies to the back of his neck, nails scratching there as he looks at her, and she's surprised to see his cheeks a bit red, grins as she feels the same traitorous blush color her own face.

"Well, I, I wanted to ask you," he says after a sigh, "if you'd like to, uh, come over tonight. To my place."

"Oh."

"It's Ashley's night off, and I just thought it... might be easier there for us to... talk. More private."

"To talk."

"Yes. Talk."

"And what would we talk about?" Regina asks. She means for it to be casual, innocent even, but even she can hear the seductive quality in her tone. She'd be ashamed of it if it wasn't for the way Robin reacts to it, tongue peeking out to wet his lips as his eyes darken, roam her figure.

"Well, us. I guess."

"Mm," she agrees. In truth, she'd been about to suggest something along the same lines earlier. She'd thought to ask him to stay over tonight, to sneak into her room and share her bed. But his house does have the added perk of privacy...

"I suppose you have a plan as to my sneaking out of here? I doubt Alan and Much will let me out of their sight." Her eyebrow is raised as she posits the question, but her eyes shut as his hand runs up and down her arm again. "Robin," she all but moans, the tingling touch making her long for other things.

"Tell them you have a headache and don't want to be disturbed. That if they need you, they should call me first. Then use the emergency evac tunnel out of your room. I'll have Ashley pick me up around the curb and leave my car so you can drive it to my place. They won't know a thing."

Regina only half hears what he's saying, too caught up in the tantalizing trail his fingertips are now blazing down her chest, catching on the dip of her blouse and pulling slightly to expose her chest, the tops of her breasts.

"Oh, and Regina?" he asks, bending closer when she whimpers a needy, _Yes?_

"I can't wait for us to, uh, talk," he whispers into her ear, her skin heating up with the warmth of his breath and his words.

* * *

The drive to his house is barely five minutes, and under the cover of darkness and the late hour, no one spots her as she weaves through the streets and parks right outside the modest home.

She knocks on his door twice, then hides behind the bushes and waits, and when Robin appears, he's chuckling at her awkward crouch on his front porch.

"Yeah, yeah, I look ridiculous, ha ha," she grouses, and Robin grins at her, offers his hand to help her up, and uses the momentum to pull her close, kissing her scowl away.

Regina can't help it. She smiles. Rolls her eyes at him, sure, but she smiles. Because there's that tingling, butterfly-ish feeling in her belly again, and she loves that. Loves how giddy he makes her feel.

They don't waste any time talking. Regina knows that was never the plan anyway. And right now she just needs this. Needs _him_. Needs his mouth and his hands and his cock.

They don't even make it past the couch.

Roland is asleep upstairs, Robin tells her, and the monitor is on the coffee table, should he wake up and need something, but Regina has known Roland's sleeping patterns better than her own for so long now, she's sure he won't wake anytime soon.

And so with that resolved, they focus on each other. Regina gets him naked faster than she thought possible. Her hands inch under his shirt and lift the fabric up, up, up... then pull his pants down, down, down, until he's bare and standing before her with his hand stroking up his length, his eyes on her as she quickly sheds her skirt and begins to unbutton her blouse.

But then he's on her, lips sucking kisses up her neck, down her jawline, until he reaches her mouth and his tongue tastes hers.

Robin moans, guttural and wonderful as he presses closer, clutches her to him and traps her hand between their chests, stopping her from unbuttoning her intrusive blouse.

"I'm trying to get my shirt off," she gasps into his mouth, but it seems he's not going to wait any longer. Robin steps back, hooks his hands at the top of the white fabric, and tears it right through.

Buttons fly everywhere, and Regina would scold him for it if she wasn't so turned on by the action, if she wasn't busy moaning his name and licking her lips as he buries his face in her breasts and nips gently at the swells, his hands bringing them out of her bra so he can suck at her nipples. A few seconds on one and then the other, treating them both to teasing swirls of his tongue in between.

"Oh, god!" she breathes out, hand flying to his head and burying her fingers in his hair, pulling slightly as he continues to ravish her.

His hand is splayed along her belly, scoots down the more she writhes under his touch, and then it's right _there_ , pushing her panties aside and rubbing at her clit in slow, firm strokes.

"Fuck, you're wet already," he mutters into her neck, then finds her mouth and kisses her frantically.

All Regina can do is let out a soft _Mmm_ against his lips, her hips bucking into his touch, and _god_ , he feels so good, knows exactly where and how to touch to make her go wild.

Her nails dig into his skin as she moves her hand down his body, feels the curves of his muscles, smiles when he groans at the gesture, and then she's wrapping her fingers around his cock and moving slowly, pulling back his foreskin with every downward stroke and teasing his tip with her thumb.

"Regina!" he gasps, and his bottom lip looks suddenly even more enticing than before, so she bites into it gently, pulls it towards her until they're kissing again.

It's... electric. Currents of heat and need slither up her spine whenever he touches her, and this time it's intensified, made all the better when it's his mouth that descends on her, trailing kisses down the very center of her chest, over the valley between her breasts and further down as his hands finish relieving her of her underwear, a scrap of black lace that lands somewhere near the coffee table.

She squirms when his lips reach her belly button, lets out a little laugh. And then that laugh turns into a moan, when he presses his tongue to her skin and brings it down, finds her clit and licks there.

But the angle is awkward, standing as they are in the middle of his living room, so his hands grab on to her ass as he moves on his knees and turns them, so that the backs of her thighs hit the arm of the couch.

Regina falls onto it gladly, turns and spreads her legs as Robin half-crawls to the front of the couch. He exhales when he finally situates himself before her, one hand seeking out her wetness and spreading it with the tips of his fingers, his breathing shallow and mouth dry as he stares at her.

"You're so beautiful," he tells her.

"I believe you said that last night as well," she teases, her voice breathless as she sits up and pulls him to her, kisses a line down his throat and back up to his lips.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying it," he retorts, then puts his mouth to a use much better than talking.

They get lost in making out for a few more minutes, the hand he has on her sex rubbing firmly at her clit while the other treats her nipple to more of those teasing little rolls that make her cry out for him. And cry for him she does, whimpers and moans and gasps as he rubs and rubs, venturing a finger inside her and pushing down, giving her this pleasant sensation of being filled. _Fuck_ , she loves that.

After heated seconds of his mouth on hers, he kneels back on the floor before her. His hands are both on her thighs now, spreading them open again as he bends to his task.

His tongue is wet and warm on her sex, delves into her and licks as she rolls her hips slowly, seeks out more of his mouth.

"Robin," she breathes, "please, I need-" she cuts off, moaning when he sucks at her.

"What do you need?" he mutters without pulling away, and she can feel the vibrations of his voice on her already aching clit, has to stifle a scream at the delicious tingles it causes.

"I need you to— fuuuck!" she whines when two of his fingers plunge inside her without warning. It's unexpected, but wonderful, because she's wet and needy and he's giving her just what she wants.

"Finish that sentence, Regina," he urges, just before he sucks at her clit again and _god_ , how is she supposed to finish her thought when he's doing that to her?

"I need— I need you to— _Mmm_ — I need you to make me come."

It's a slurred whisper at best, broken amongst gasps and little cries of pleasure, but he hears her, smiles wickedly at her, teeth biting into his bottom lip before he answers.

"Your wish, my command."

Those two fingers he has inside her move with more purpose now, a steady, firm in-and-out that has her bucking and rasping out his name. His other hand presses against her lower stomach, keeping her settled enough for his mouth to do that marvelous thing it does to her clit.

He's sucking at her again, harder now, and the acute pleasure of it has Regina grabbing a nearby cushion and shoving it into her face, so she can scream without waking Roland —or the neighbors, for that matter— as Robin continues his attentions.

And then he stops. Pulls his mouth away and takes the cushion from her.

She's going to kill him.

"What the hell?!" she almost yells, and that ridiculously attractive bastard has the audacity to laugh at her.

"I'm sorry. I just needed to get rid of this," he explains, throwing the cushion to the other end of the couch with a flourish. "I'd like to see you when you come on my tongue, madam governor."

Damn him.

Damn him for using that tone and those eyes and that mouth. That incredibly talented mouth that is now back on her clit, stoking her arousal once more.

"I need that," she tries to protest, but her voice is low, gravelly, "I can't keep quiet."

"Yes you can," he teases, and the movement of his mouth as it wraps around the words tickles against her sensitive sex. "Not that I would want you to be quiet," he tells her then. "I can't wait til we can truly be alone. Then I can make you scream my name with nothing to stifle you."

If he keeps talking to her like this, she may come just from that. He might not even need to touch her, just let him keep saying all these naughty, wonderful things and she'll be great.

But he's not just gonna make her come with words. Oh no, he's taking her demand very seriously, and is now pushing his fingers inside her and searching, hitting that spot that makes stars erupt as her eyes fall shut and she moans loudly.

There's a noise, a wet sort of noise that fills her ears, and she realizes it's his hand as it pounds into her, faster and faster as he keeps sucking at her clit, and something about it, and about the way he's looking up at her, all dark eyes and raw desire, has that coil of orgasm springing free inside of her. She's sweaty and hot as she comes on his mouth, his fingers, rolls her hips into his hand and breathes heavily as she rides out wave after wave of pleasure.

Robin watches her, licks some more, and withdraws with his lips wet and swollen, crawls up her body to kiss her, making her moan at the taste of herself on his tongue.

"You are stunning when you come, you know that?" he murmurs in the scant space between them when he pulls away, the tip of his nose brushing hers as he half-hovers atop her.

"Robin?" she asks, feeling bold and audacious as ever.

"Mm?"

"Why don't you take me upstairs..." she trails off, lifting her head a bit to place a kiss on his cheek, her hand teasing his cock with lazy tugs. "...and fuck me?"

He groans at her words, instantly rises and picks her up. Regina lets out a squeal of surprise, loops her arms around his neck and holds tight as he all but sprints up to his bedroom. They must make quite the picture, she thinks, both naked and aroused as he dashes up a flight of stairs.

His mouth is on her clit again the second he places her on the bed, but she's still sensitive, still reeling. So she pushes her fingers into his hair, tugs a bit to pull his head away, and smiles at his confused frown.

"I, um, still need a minute," she says shyly.

Robin smiles then, sinks his teeth into his bottom lip again and rises from his knees.

He trails a line of kisses on her thigh, up her belly and to her breasts as he looms over her figure. He lingers there at her breasts, has her gasping and muttering nonsensical things as he treats her nipples to those teasing licks and hard sucks.

"Tell me when," he mutters into her skin. She wants to laugh at his eagerness, only he chooses that moment to bite softly at her nipple, flicking his tongue against it while it's trapped in his mouth, so her chuckle comes out as a strangled moan instead.

"Oh," she whimpers, and "Feels so good," she rasps. "Mmh Robin!"

"God, I love that," he tells her with a groan, just before he catches her other nipple and gives it the same delicious little bites and flicks of tongue. "Can't wait to be inside you."

She's wet, still. So wet and needy and ready, but she's enjoying this. Enjoying the feel of his tongue and teeth on her nipples, the teasing caress of his hand as it moves from her waist and up her ribs, then back down.

"This okay?" he asks in a shaky breath when he trails three fingers down to her sex, rubs at her slowly. He's not touching her clit, not really, but there's something about the reverence of his touch that has Regina moaning and twitching. She nods frantically, bites her lower lip and revels.

"Robin," she gasps out, and he whispers a low _Fuck_ at the breathy sound of his name. She loves that her voice can do that to him. "I want you. Now."

"Are you sure?" he asks, and that hand that had been rubbing at her ventures just a tad lower, just enough for his fingers to properly brush her clit.

It feels amazing. She's hot and tingly, the aftershocks of her first orgasm contributing to the build-up of a second as Robin strums his fingers against her more fully.

He delights in her reactions, she can see it all over his face, the way he closes his eyes and breathes heavily when she moans that _Yes_ , she's sure, that she wants to feel him, wants to come on his cock now.

"Fuck, Regina," he utters at that, pulling his hand away from her and moving to kneel on the bed. Stroking himself as he watches her.

It's only the second time they've done this, but the first had been on her desk, a hurried, frenzied thing where they'd been carried away by the raw attraction they feel. Now, though, now he takes his time, fucks her with his hand slowly, firmly. Dips his fingers into her and pumps languidly as he lies on his side right next to her.

He does that thing again, that trick where he pushes down inside her, and "God, that feels amazing," she tells him, whimpering with pleasure as he does it again.

She wants to kiss the smug smile away from his mouth, but she's too overwhelmed by how _good_ it feels, so she wets her lips instead, looks up at him with her mouth half-open as her upper body arches up slowly, matching his rhythm.

"I can't stop looking at you," he tells her, his voice rich and seductive as he leaves a sweet kiss on her breast, "You've no idea how fucking sexy you are," he says then, closing his lips around her nipple and sucking, the pace of his fingers picking up for a moment when she moans loudly. "I love that I can do this to you. God, you're so warm, so tight. I need you."

"Then what— _oh!_ — what are you — _Mmmm_ — waiting for, Agent Locksley?" she asks. Her body is still moving, still undulating on the bed in reaction to his touch.

And then he's off her, kneeling on the bed and stretching his arm to the bedside table. He opens the top drawer and fishes out a condom, rips the packet with his teeth and groans when Regina wraps her fingers around him, pumping him a few times before he rolls it on.

He's thick, and incredibly hard. She's done very little to make him so, has been too caught up in his attentions to do much about riling him up, but the knowledge that what he's doing to her gets him like this? Regina's not sure she's ever found anything hotter.

She draws her hand away when he moves to finally put on the condom, rolling it down his length and keeping his hand there, stroking as he stares at her. They've only done this once before, but she already knows -and he has told her- how much he likes to watch her, so Regina leans back on her elbows to give him a little show. Shakes her head slowly from one side to the other, to give her hair a little bounce, and smiles at the hungry look in his eyes as he takes her in, roams his gaze over her naked form.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

"You're not so bad yourself, Agent Locksley," she winks, making him smile devilishly at the mention of his title. And then he's crawling over her on the bed, positioning himself just right, one arm holding his weight above her while the other moves down, hand grabbing his cock again and running the tip of it over her sex, spreading the wetness there to her clit and back down.

"Stop teasing," she breathes out, rolling her hips in search of him. Robin has the nerve to laugh at that, but then he's sinking into her before she can scowl at him, and she utters a throaty _Yeesss_ at the feel of him, stretching her as he gets deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he says, his voice low and raspy when he's buried to the hilt inside her. He starts to move then, slowly, letting her feel every inch of him as he pistons in and out in languid strokes, hitting that spot inside her when he shifts a bit on the fourth go, and Regina moans loudly.

"Right there?" he asks, and she nods eagerly, circles her hips to aid him and moans again when he hits the mark.

"Mmh," she whimpers, tongue peeking out to wet her lower lip as her eyes flutter shut.

"That's it, beautiful, just feel it," he tells her, sinks down and into her just a little harder, a new wave of pleasure erupting when he combines the bucking of his hips with wet passes of his tongue over her nipple.

She does as she's told, just lies there and lets herself feel. It's no hardship, really, not when he's going harder in his thrusts, not when he's snug between her thighs and pressing the warmth of his body into hers.

"God, Robin," Regina mutters, her teeth biting into his shoulder when he rests his body fully atop her, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of her head as he kisses her cheek, her neck.

He moans her name as he thrusts into her, hips moving back and forth, filling her deliciously and hitting that perfect spot over and over. It won't take her long to come again.

His breathing is fast and shallow, a complete contrast to the measured thrusts of his cock inside her, but his state of arousal does things to her, has her squeezing his ass with her hand to spur him on. She rolls her hips beneath him, picks up the pace just a bit, just enough to wordlessly ask him for more.

Robin gives it to her, quickens the rhythm of his hips and hits that spot more firmly, and Regina has to remind herself of the toddler sleeping down the hall in order to keep from screaming at the delightful pressure.

He's going faster now, harder, bucks into her over and over again in between breathy mentions of her name, of how good she feels, how wet, how hot, how _perfect_.

"God, I love feeling you, too," she says desperately, circles her hips faster to match his pace, until the bed shakes with their combined movements.

His hand is suddenly right where she wants it, fingertips rubbing furiously at her clit in tight little circles, and it's all Regina can do to sink her nails into his back and drag them over his skin. Her thighs are warm where they hold him between them, her brow sweaty, her belly tense, her throat dry from all her moaning and labored breathing, and that wonderful burst of pleasure winds tighter and tighter.

"Are you going to come for me, Regina?" Robin asks gruffly, lips tickling her skin as he speaks against her jaw.

"God, yes!" she exclaims, and he sinks his elbow deeper into the pillow and cradles her head with his hand, brings it closer so that their foreheads are pressed together, noses brushing and mouths hovering over each other as they pant together.

He comes first, thrusting through it to bring her to peak right along with him, and orgasm seizes her just a couple of pumps later, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before she kisses him hungrily, riding out her bliss as her body tingles and relaxes.

They keep their position for a moment, breathe each other in for a few seconds. Robin's hand is on the back of her neck, still holding her to him, fingers playing with the hair there. He dots a playful kiss on the tip of her nose and rolls off of her, which finally allows Regina a chance to stretch a bit. She can feel the smile on her face, feel the aftershocks of pleasure still ricocheting through her.

"How do you feel?" he asks, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

"Great," she mutters drowsily, stretching some more as he rises from the bed and moves to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

When he walks back into the room, naked and glorious, Regina merely stares. Wets her lower lip and watches him climb back on the bed with her.

"See something you like, Governor Mills?" Robin teases, and what's the point of hiding it, really? He just gave her two orgasms and one of the hottest sexual experiences she's ever had.

"Mm, yes I do, Agent Locksley," she replies, her voice low as she rakes her gaze over his naked form. Robin's hand runs over her thigh softly, up her ribcage and over her breasts, then to her jaw and down to her chin, tilting it towards him so he can kiss her.

Regina revels in the touch of his lips, trades lazy passes of tongue and soft presses of lips until he pulls away to kiss her jaw, down her neck, tasting her in their afterglow.

* * *

"You know what I could really go for?" she asks later, as they're lying naked on his bed, snuggled together under the covers. It's been a while since they've spoken, she'd think him asleep if it wasn't for the random patterns he's been drawing across her back, his fingers soft and warm on her skin.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need a little bit more time before the next round," he tells her with a chuckle, pressing his forehead into her temple and kissing her cheek.

Regina laughs with him, shakes her head and playfully swats at his shoulder, snuggling closer and kissing his neck.

"That's not what I meant," she clarifies. "I was thinking more like... pancakes."

Robin raises a curious eyebrow, "Pancakes," he states, looks behind her at the clock on his nightstand. "It's four in the morning."

"Well, I'm hungry!" she defends, making him laugh. She likes his laugh, likes how free and open it is. Most of all she likes that she's the one bringing it out of him.

"I'll admit I've worked up an appetite, myself, but not exactly for pancakes," he teases, sneaking a hand under the covers and giving her breast a firm little squeeze, drifting down to cup her gently between the thighs.

It's Regina's turn to raise an eyebrow now, smiling wickedly as she tells him, "Again?"

"What can I say? You're quite delectable," he winks.

"As much as I would enjoy that, I really am hungry," she returns, still smiling at him. She feels giddy. All of him, everything he does makes her giddy, the way he looks at her, smiles at her, talks to her, kisses her...

"Pancakes it is, then," he says with a sigh, looking at her with amusement in his eyes as he gets out of bed and pulls on his pajama pants. He leans down over her when he's done, busses her lips gently.

"I'll be back in a bit," he tells her between kisses, "you stay here and — _mmm_ — take a nap. I'll bring the food up."

She grins at him, kisses him one last time and then lets him go, her arm stretching to hold on to his hand until they can no longer touch.

She rolls around between the sheets for a few minutes, revels in the lazy afterglow, but the nap Robin's suggested doesn't happen. Instead, Regina gets up, heads to the bathroom to wash her face, clean up a bit. The water is cool against her skin, has her feeling refreshed and energized, so instead of going back to bed, she grabs one of Robin's hoodies from his closet and puts it on. It comes up to mid-thigh, the sleeves just a tad too long on her, but it's soft and comfy, just what she needs.

Regina pads downstairs, delights in the smell of bacon as it wafts from the kitchen. She hadn't asked for bacon, but the fact that he's making her some anyway, simply because he knows how much she likes it, makes tears spring to her eyes. He's always been like this, always anticipating her needs, always making sure she's well taken care of, and all of that somehow has even more significance now that they've chosen to dive into this... whatever it is they've got going.

He doesn't hear her come in, but rests a hand over both of hers on his stomach when she wraps her arms around him from behind, lets out a soft sigh when she kisses the back of his shoulder.

"Thought you were resting," he says, his voice almost too low to hear as the bacon sizzles.

"Mm, I'm okay," she assures him lazily, squeezing him a little tighter before letting go and propping herself up on the counter. Robin moves the bacon to a plate, and is about to pour more pancake mixture into the griddle when he stops to look at her, groans out a low _Fuck_.

"What?" she asks, nervously tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"The sight of you in my clothes is just..." he places the bowl of mixture on the counter beside her, puts his hands on her thighs and kisses her fiercely.

"Mmm," she moans against his mouth. Kisses him again before telling him, "Pancakes are burning."

He pulls away reluctantly, turns back to the stove and shakes his head with a smile, flipping the overcooked pancakes on the griddle, removing a couple and pouring more mixture.

They stay in comfortable silence while he finishes up, share a few kisses and little laughs while he sets all the food on a tray to bring up to the bedroom with them. Regina cuts up some strawberries she finds in the fridge, grabs the bottle of maple syrup and some napkins while Robin balances the pancakes, bacon and two glasses of orange juice on the tray, and together they head upstairs.

He feeds her strawberries, and she steals bites from his pancakes before even cutting into her own, pours entirely too much syrup on both their plates, and Robin teases her for having the breakfast preferences of a child.

It's fun, and sweet, and entirely them. Their dynamic remains playful and wonderful as it's always been, only now they're in his bed, trading kisses and soft touches that only make the whole experience that much more enjoyable.

So maybe they don't have everything figured out yet, but for the first time in a long time, Regina is happy, and she chooses then not to question it, not to overwhelm herself with second thoughts.

She chooses to follow her heart, and enjoy every second of it.


	27. Bronze in Jealousy

**_Based on this Tumblr prompt: "Regina holds a ceremony to welcome back the US athletes from the Olympic games... maybe a splash of jealous husband?"_**

* * *

Regina's childhood dream was to be a swimmer.

The moment she'd learned how to swim in school, she was obsessed. She'd watch competitions sitting in her living room, wearing nothing but her bathing suit and cheering on her favorites with her father. She couldn't have been more than five or six years old, but she remembers it so vividly. How mesmerized she'd be by the way they moved on the water, by the speed and the thrill of the race.

Her mother, of course, had not shared her wishes. She'd said if Regina wanted to get into sports, she'd have to choose something better. Something expensive and equestrian, and for a while Regina was excited about that, too. She'd always loved horses, enjoyed her riding lessons as she grew up, but it wasn't what she wanted most.

She supposes it all worked out for the best, considering her current job, her current life. She doubts she would've had Robin and Roland in her life had she chosen to go the competitive swimming route.

Nevertheless, she lingers by a TV whenever she catches one of the races during the Olympics. Watches as her country's representatives take the gold and cheers along with the staff, who all smile in amusement at her giddy display.

Robin says that he finds it adorable, bops the tip of her nose with his finger and kisses her when she excitedly tells him about her favorite female swimmer shattering the world record. He even joins her for a few laps in the White House pools whenever she feels the itch.

But when he catches her and Ruby ogling the swimmers on TV and commenting on their physique, Robin's excitement dwindles. Regina worries she may have offended him, but Ruby quickly shuts down her nervous train of thought, throwing one of those comments that have made her a trusted friend, rather than an employee.

"All due respect, ma'am, you're married, not blind."

Regina chuckles at her candor, and when she next sees Robin, he seems himself again, so she doesn't really think much of his deflated Olympic mood.

And then the day arrives where she's to welcome the athletes home, and her husband's sour disposition makes a reappearance.

There's a special luncheon at the White House, where she will dedicate her afternoon to Team USA and congratulate them on their prowess. There will be press, and pictures, and Elsa makes sure everything is set in perfect order with every reporter allowed inside, while Ingrid sees to every detail of Regina's schedule for the day.

Everything goes according to plan, except Robin is acting strange. He doesn't seem angry, exactly, more like... dejected somehow. Regina tries to get him to engage, introduces him fondly to the gymnastics team, and he's perfectly polite and pleasant, but ends his socializing as quickly as possible and then retires to a corner, talks to the Secret Service agents posted by the doors.

She's a bit confused by his demeanor, and then the male swimming team is introduced to her, and she notices how intently he's watching her, how he scowls when one of the young men in the group shakes her hand a little longer than usual.

"Congratulations," she tells them all, "you've made your country proud."

"I would hope we've made you proud as well, President Mills?" the same swimmer asks, smiling as he walks up to her.

"Yes, of course," she says with a laugh, "I'm very proud of all of you."

Throughout the afternoon, that same young man keeps trying to talk to her, to keep her attention. Regina is flattered and highly amused by the way he looks at her, as if in awe of her, but then she notices Robin is watching the same interactions. He doesn't seem to find them quite as funny as she does.

She's halfway across the room, walking toward him, when that same swimmer is suddenly standing in her path.

"So, your assistant tells me swimming is your favorite sport. What style do you prefer?" he asks, and Regina sighs, gives priority to her presidential duties and answers the question.

"Butterfly, probably, even though I can't swim like that," she says good-naturedly, smiles at him politely.

"Oh, I could totally teach you sometime!" the young man says eagerly, "I'm sure you'd learn fast."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," she tries to deflect, but he shakes his head before she's even done talking.

"I bet you're a talented swimmer, I could definitely give you some tips, teach you butterfly..." he keeps talking, and Regina can't help but notice just how handsome he is. If she remembers correctly from the bio sheets she read before entering the event, he's twenty-four years old, born somewhere in Wisconsin (or was it Montana? New York?). His hair is dark brown, eyes green and alight with wonder. During the broadcasts of the races, Ruby had commented that he had the looks of a Disney prince, and looking at him now, Regina can't help but agree. Chiseled chin and strong jawline, perfectly defined cheekbones and nose, a body she knows is to die for, even though he's wearing a jacket at the moment.

It seems, however, that he thinks _she_ is the hot one in the room, his smile mischievous as he suggests swimming lessons again, promises to teach her all the proper techniques. She's once again flattered by the attention, but still has to resist the urge to guffaw at his too-obvious advances. She shouldn't find it so funny, should really be scolding him for hitting on a married woman, a married _president_ , but he's a kid, and he's cute, and it's harmless, so she merely gives him a polite laugh, tells him she'll think about it, and excuses herself.

When she finally continues on her way to Robin's corner, she notices he is no longer there.

"Ingrid, where's Mr. Locksley?" she asks her assistant, who gives her a somewhat enigmatic smile as she answers.

"He went for a walk in the Rose Garden. He said he needed some air."

"Of course he did," Regina mutters, sighing before excusing herself and going off to find her husband.

He's standing in the garden with his back to her, arms crossed and face turned upwards, catching the sunshine with his eyes closed. His hair looks golden in the light, the color of his skin warms up, and there's this air of peace about him that makes her smile tenderly.

She sighs as she walks toward him, and the click of her heels on the marble steps alerts him to her presence.

"Hey, shouldn't you be inside?" he asks curiously.

"You're right. I should be," she tells him, but doesn't move, still poised on the bottom step while Robin walks to her. "But I was told my husband needed some air and left the event."

Robin sighs then, shakes his head at her. "It's nothing, don't worry. You should go back."

"Robin, are you jealous?" she asks point-blank. Because there is no time to dawdle here.

"Look, I know it's ridiculous, okay? That's why I left. I know he's harmless, and I trust you, and feeling like this is stupid."

"And yet you still do."

"Because I'm an idiot, and I am head over heels in love with you, and I can't help it. You find him attractive, I know you do, and it shouldn't bother me, but it does."

Regina has heard countless times how angry her friends get any time their husbands or boyfriends display this kind of jealousy, has always listened to them whine about it and show their annoyance. But now that it's happening to her, she's just... amused.

She smiles softly, walks the rest of the distance between them and gently runs her hands up his chest and around his neck, holding there as she leans in close.

"Oh, I think he's very attractive," she admits, because they made a pact long ago to never keep things from each other, and they've both held their end of it ever since. "I mean, he's handsome, an Olympic gold medalist, and he's sweet, funny even..." she trails off, her lips finding his neck and landing a kiss there, then grinning into his skin when he swallows, reacting to her.

"But..." she says as she stops her attentions and looks up into his eyes, "...he's no Robin Locksley."

She winks at him then, bites her lower lip as she waits for his reply. To her relief, Robin lets out a quiet laugh, loops his arms around her waist and presses her closer to him, lips falling into hers in a soft, sensual kiss Regina feels all the way down to her toes.

"Mmm," he says as he pulls back, still smiling as he lifts his chin to place a sweet kiss on her brow.

"What do you say we blow off the whole reception," she asks, kissing the pad of his thumb when it rises to run over her lower lip, "and just go up to the residence?"

"As much as I would like that," Robin whispers, "it wouldn't be right. And Elsa would kill us."

Regina sighs defeatedly, nods into the scant space between them, her nose brushing his with the movement.

"You're right," she finally admits. "Are we okay?" she asks him then, because she will not leave his embrace until she's one hundred percent sure she has shattered this bout of self-doubt that seems to be plaguing him.

"More than okay," he replies, making her smile just before he kisses her again. "Sorry I was being a arse."

"You weren't," she assures him with a laugh, "just a bit grumpy."

"I love you," is all he says in return, and Regina doesn't think she'll ever get used to this, to the tingly fluttering she feels in her chest, the little giddy somersaults her stomach does when he says those words.

"I love you," she echoes. "Only you."

Robin smiles, places one last kiss on her lips, and follows her back inside.


	28. Lust

_**For Allison. Happy birthday!**_

 _ **Here's what you asked for =)**_

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Those are the first words she says to him when she sees his face on the screen. It's not the 'Happy birthday!' she had planned, but she's late in her return home, and he's all alone on his birthday, and she feels terrible.

"It's fine, my love. You're on your way, right?"

"Yeah, just eight more hours and I'll be ready to give you your, um, present."

"Oh, really?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Really. I've cleared my schedule. When I get home, we're spending the entire day doing whatever you want."

"What if what I want is you, naked, in the bedroom with me all day?"

"Then I'll strip the second I get there," she promises.

"Actually, what if we were to have a bit of fun right now?"

"Now?"

"Yes. It's my birthday, and I can't have you. Might as well get the next best thing."

"You're insane." She tries to make her tone firm, but the smirk he's giving her is contagious, and she finds herself grinning back despite her hesitance.

"I'm merely establishing contact with my wife on my birthday, why is that such a bad idea?" he asks innocently.

"Because I know exactly what kind of 'contact' you're seeking," she tells him, raising an eyebrow and smirking. He shrugs his shoulders, unabashed in his response.

"Can you blame me?" he asks her then, practically pouting as he adds, "I haven't seen you in two weeks. And it's my birthday."

"Robin, if someone—"

"I worked security for you for five years, Regina. Trust me, I know how to establish a secure online call without giving the NSA or the Secret Service a peep show," he intervenes, making her chuckle.

She sighs, then, her hand already toying with the button of her blazer.

"You want this, too," he observes, and even on the screen she can see the way his eyes follow the motion of her hand, up and down as she moves it over her lapel.

"Because I miss you," she confesses. "And because we got _interrupted_ on the one night we had together before I left."

By 'interrupted' she means Agent Swan had called their room while they were in the middle of some very good foreplay. She'd cited something about a national emergency, one that turned out to be a false alarm, easily resolved through diplomatic channels. But one that had also fully occupied Regina's last night before her trip, had landed her on her seat aboard Air Force One without the earth-shattering orgasm Robin had been building her up to with teasing passes of his tongue against her nipples, and his fingers buried inside her.

"Yes, I'm quite frustrated over that, myself," Robin brings her out of her musings, and there's a subtle note of disdain in his voice as he speaks, one Regina knows is directed at Swan's spectacularly terrible timing.

"Yes, well, when I get home tonight we can pick up right where we left off," she says coyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as Robin laughs lightly.

"I thought that's what we were going to do now." His tone is suggestive, raspy and wonderful, low in that way he knows makes her squirm. He's doing it on purpose, the sexy bastard. And sure enough, the very sound has her squeezing her thighs together.

She's heading back to Washington after a diplomatic visit halfway around the world, currently sitting in her bed on Air Force One while the quiet rumble of the plane's engines muffle her conversation with Robin. He's in a dark gray T-shirt, one of those V-neck ones Regina loves to see on him, and she can't see below that, but she's sure he's only in his boxers, sitting on their bed as he watches her.

"I don't know, Robin, someone could see," she protests again, but then her ridiculous, unbelievably attractive husband decides to remove his shirt, his hair flying when the fabric brushes it, and that lock she loves to push back falls over his brow just as his tongue peeks out to wet his lips.

"Regina, I'm dying here," he murmurs. "It's safe. I promise. Now, stop worrying, and take that shirt off."

At that remark, Regina can't resist playing with him.

"Babe?" she calls, her voice sickly sweet.

"Yes?"

"When has bossing me around ever worked in your favor?" she asks him then, grinning at his frustrated grunt.

"Regina," he throws pleadingly, and that's when she realizes one of his arms is moving slightly, a slow up and down motion that is barely discernible on the screen, but she catches it.

Well, then...

"Do you want me, Robin?" she asks, knowing it drives him wild when she starts talking to him.

Instead of replying, though, he moves to sit up, and stands far back enough to remove his boxers without bumping the computer.

It's a blur of motion for a second, and then he's back, fully naked and gorgeous. She recognizes the angle, can tell he's placed the laptop on his nightstand, to the upper right of the bed, while he sits on the lower left of the mattress, so that all of him is in plain view. She can see his hand now, wrapped around his cock, thumb teasing his tip.

"What do you think?" he answers her question, gesturing down with his chin so she can see how hard he is.

"Mmm, wish I was there to, um... assist," she teases, and Robin groans.

"Regina, please," he begs.

"Please, what, babe?" she asks, her voice as low and sexy as she can make it.

"I need to see you," he pleads, and who is she to deny him? Needy as she is for his mouth, his touch.

She can't have either of those things, but she can have his words, can have his panting breaths and the mentions of how much he wants her, and Regina is already so desperate for him that she thinks this might just do the trick. At least until she gets home and can fuck him good and proper.

Her navy blazer is off in seconds, followed by her shirt, bra and trousers, until she's standing by the bed in nothing but the tiny bit of purple silk that passes for underwear, her hands playing with her breasts as she stares at the camera.

"Is this what you wanted?" she asks, keeping her voice low.

"Fuck, yes," he hisses as he drops his head back, his eyes closing for a minute as his hand picks up the pace just slightly.

And then he's looking at her again, licking his lower lip, and muttering, "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you."

"I miss you, too," she replies with a wicked little laugh, adds, "but until I get home, you'll just have to watch." And his answering groan is animalistic, almost urgent.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" she finally catches on, "Not just since I left."

"I'll admit it's crossed my mind, yes," he confesses, giving her a wink before his eyes drift back to her breasts. Regina keeps massaging, starts to enjoy herself by giving her nipples little twisting rolls between her fingers.

"Well, then, by all means, Agent Locksley—"

"No longer agent," he reminds her, and okay, he's right, but is he really choosing _now_ to correct her?

"Robin, focus," she replies, and he smiles at her sheepishly, then roams his gaze over her form.

"You are stunning," he says. Okay, nice job. Good comeback.

"Tell me, Agent Locksley," she continues, uses his old title on purpose this time, to see if he tries to correct her again. He doesn't. "What do you want to do to me right... this... second?"

She punctuates each of those last three words with a step closer to her tablet, crawling then over the bed until she's right in front of the device. She moves to lie on her back on the bed, shifts the tablet so that it's beside her, but with enough distance to capture her naked body for Robin's perusal.

"I want to kiss you," he starts, his voice dropping an octave as he watches her.

"Where?" Regina asks, then moves her hand to her nipple when he swallows and answers.

"Everywhere. I want to run my fingers through your hair. God, I love your hair. I want to touch your lips, kiss them, kiss your neck, your breasts, that little spot just below your earlobe that makes you writhe for me."

Regina can only moan at the words, her hand working her nipples just a little harder.

"I want to hear that noise you make when I fuck you with my fingers, those little screams you try not to let out, but you can't help yourself. I want to feel you dig your nails into my shoulders because I make you feel good. God I can't wait to taste you, make you come on my tongue."

"It's your birthday," she moans, "shouldn't it be the—" a sharp gasp cuts through her speech when her hand abandons her breasts and shifts down to rub at her clit. "—the other way around?"

"The way I see it," Robin says then, "you're my birthday cake. And the minute you get here, I'm going to eat you until you scream..."

"Fuck, Robin!" she lets out, fingers rubbing faster. This is going to take a lot less time than she'd initially thought. She can't help it, she loves it when he talks to her, when he tells her all the things he wants to do to her.

"I can't wait to be inside you, with you wrapped around me all snug and warm."

"Would you go slow?" she asks, her voice breathy, "Or would you go hard? What do you want? Tell me."

"Slow at first, because I love feeling you."

"God, I love feeling you, too. The way you move inside me. How you bite my lip when I tell you to go faster."

"I'd pick up the pace, then. Just a little. Just enough to get you all riled up the way I like."

She whimpers at the image, two of her fingers venturing inside her and probing pleasantly.

"You're so beautiful right now," he tells her, and her eyes close as she surrenders to the fantasy, but she can hear his short breathing, the way he groans at the sight of her.

"Regina, look at me," he says then, and she does, forces herself to stop moving her hand for a moment so she can open her eyes and focus them on the screen.

"Do you know how much I want you?" he asks, a rhetorical question, surely, considering she can _see_ how much he wants her. "How much I need to touch you and feel you tighten around me?"

"God, Robin," she moans then, her hand back on her clit, fingers rubbing slowly, but firmly, providing just enough contact to have her reeling again, teetering on the cusp as he murmurs dirty things to her.

"I saw that press conference," he starts. "You wore that tight black skirt just for me, didn't you? Because you knew I'd be watching, and it would drive me mad."

"Did it work?" she gasps her question, her hand going just a tad faster. He notices the change in her rhythm, moans when his eyes catch the quicker motion of her hand.

"There you were, talking about foreign policy, and all I wanted to do was press you against that podium and have my way with you," he rasps, and Regina whimpers at the image.

"Mmm, that would've been amazing," she tells him. "Can't wait to feel you."

"Oh and you will. I'm going to make sure you can't walk after you get here."

She chuckles breathlessly at that, throws a sassy, "You're awfully confident, birthday boy."

"I know your body, Regina," he presses on, his voice low and delicious as it wraps around the words, "I know just how to make you scream."

"Do you?" she whispers, and where did her voice go? She's too far gone to care.

"I know you love it when I suck your clit," he starts, and she's moaning again. Louder. "I know how wild you get when I fuck you with my hand. That little trick I do with my finger?"

She knows exactly what he's talking about, and she gasps a low "Fuck!" at the memory of the last time he did it, that downward press of his finger inside her that makes her squirm every. Single. Time.

"I love when you do that," she adds to her whispered curse, and she _hears_ the smile in his voice when he smugly replies with an _I know_.

"You always moan so loudly when I do it. And you know how I love it when you're loud."

She gasps as her fingers move faster, her eyes still open and staring at him as he gives himself more firm pumps of his hand, presses his thumb over his tip.

Regina licks her lips inadvertently as she watches, and he groans.

"You want to suck my cock, don't you?" he asks, just as breathless as she is, and Regina nods in time with the up-and-down of his hand.

"The way you react... _Mmh_ ," she derails her speech on a particularly sharp jolt of pleasure, and she's wet, so wet as her fingers rub over her clit. "I like knowing I can unravel you like that," she admits, her voice still a mere breath. "Makes me feel sexy to know that I can do that to you."

"And you are so, so sexy, my love. The way you moan around me is so fucking hot. And your hair, your—" he's gasping, stroking and moaning for a moment before he finishes his sentence. "Love playing with your hair while your mouth is on m— fuck, I need you."

"I need you, too," she gasps back. "Not long now."

"The second you get here, I'm going to rip your clothes off and ravish you."

"God, yes," she answers, moaning as her fingers move faster, sliding wetly over her sex over and over again. Then moving in and out of her, hard and fast, her thumb pressing against her clit as her hips start to roll frantically into her hand.

"I'm going to make you come over and over again, Regina," he keeps going, his voice deeper, gravelly and incredible. "On my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock. I want you to come so hard you forget your own name."

That's all it takes for her to moan out her orgasm, muffling the sounds against the pillow as she turns and buries her head in it, riding the orgasm on her fingers as she lets out a strangled, ecstatic little scream of his name, her legs clamping together over her hand as she feels pleasure overpower every other sensation.

Her breaths are short and labored for a couple of minutes, and a distant groan reminds her Robin is still there, still pumping his cock as he watches her. She should probably help with that.

"Are you close, Robin?"

"Fuck, yes," he mutters, his brow furrowed as his hand moves faster. "Watching you like that... god, Regina, you were spectacular."

That's the moment she notices his cock is wetter, his hand, too, sliding easier in its motions than it had before.

"Are you using my lotion?" she asks with a smirk.

"Smells like you," he says by way of explanation, and she loves it, loves that he wants her this badly.

"Wanna know a secret?" she teases, dropping the timber of her voice to that low, raspy tone he likes so much.

"As good as that felt, it's nothing compared to your hand, your mouth, to having you inside me. "

"Fuck!" he mumbles, gasping as he keeps stroking his shaft.

"Do you know what I want, Robin?" she asks, not waiting for his answering grunt as she tells him, "I want to suck your cock... take you in my mouth, drive you crazy with my tongue. And then, then I want you to fuck me. Hard."

"Shit," he curses mid-groan, moves his hand faster, and she can tell. Can recognize the deep furrowing of his brow, the way his teeth bite into his lower lip, the erratic rhythm of his hips as they begin to thrust into his hand... he's almost there.

"It'll feel so good. Having you inside me, doing all those things you mentioned. Can't wait to make you come. For you to make _me_ come."

She sits up a little straighter then, lets her hands play with her breasts, her hair, puts on a little show for him as he grunts and gasps.

"Let go, babe, show me what I do to you," she tells him, and then he's gone. Moans her name as he spills into his hand, his breathing labored as he pumps a few more times, prolonging the feeling, until he's boneless and spent, half-collapsing on the mattress, facing her.

He's closer to the camera now, and she can see all the way to his belly button, but not below. His arm is still moving though, languidly up and down as he exhales deeply, his free hand falling atop his head as he laughs.

"Happy birthday to me," he says with a breathy chuckle.

Regina giggles in response, shakes her head in amusement and rolls her eyes at him.

"You going to sleep?" she asks then, can't help sounding a little smug as she adds, "You look a little worn out."

He laughs at that, takes a deep breath and then nods.

"Shower first, but yes. I need a nap after this. Have to be ready for when my wife gets home," he answers, wiggling his eyebrows at her, making her laugh with him.

"I love you," she says, after a couple of minutes of silent contemplation.

"I love you, too," he replies. "See you soon?"

Regina looks at the clock hanging next to the door, grimaces slightly when she notices the time.

"Just seven hours to go," she says with sarcastic cheerfulness.

Robin chuckles again, his grin lingering as he looks at her through the camera, stretches out a hand to run a finger over where she imagines her face is on the screen.

"I'll have dinner waiting," he promises, making her smile tenderly at him.

"Save me some birthday cake, okay?" she reminds him.

"Love you," he says again, after nodding his answer.

"Love you, too," she replies, and then he's gone.

Regina huddles under the covers, too relaxed to care about her naked state.

Her husband's sleepy smile is the last thing she thinks of before falling asleep for the rest of the flight.


	29. Let Them Eat Cake

**_By popular demand, I've written the sequel to the previous Chronicle (Lust). Enjoy!_**

* * *

She is his birthday cake.

Just like he promised.

And he eats her out until she's writhing under his talented tongue, coming once and then twice, with a strangled little cry that he muffles with his mouth, rising up to kiss her before she can fully scream her pleasure.

"Did you—" she gasps, that second orgasm echoing even after she's loose-limbed and relaxed on the bed, her body reeling still. "Did you save me some—" she breaks off once more, still trying to get her breathing back to normal as he kisses a trail down her stomach and back up again. "Some actual birthday cake?"

Robin laughs into her skin at that, looks up at her with darkened eyes as he licks his lips. And then he's crawling over her body, his cock sliding easily over her sex for a moment, making him groan as he buries his head into her neck.

"I did," he finally tells her, kissing her jawline and moving to her lips. Regina moans into the kiss, relishes the slow pass of his tongue over her own and then sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, smiling and biting her own when he pulls away to look at her.

"God, I missed you," he breathes into the space between them, taking her lips with his once more.

They indulge in making out like horny teenagers for a few minutes, and Regina can't stop the roll of her hips as she seeks out some friction.

"Why don't you— _Mmm_ — bring it over and— _Ah!_ — let me eat it off you?" she asks between seductive kisses, and Robin half-groans, half laughs as he dives in again.

He stops after a moment, pecks her lips one final time and rises from the bed. Regina watches him walk, enjoying the sight of his naked body as he disappears down the hall to the living area, then returns with a giant slice of German chocolate cake, two spoons tucked between the bottom of the blue plate and his fingers.

"I think using me as a plate for this type of cake might be more messy than it is sexy," he warns her, sitting beside her with one leg bent over the mattress, the other dangling from the bed, his toes brushing the carpet.

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Locksley?" Regina asks with a raised eyebrow, and watches with satisfaction as he swallows, then looks down at the cake, and back up at her.

"Do your worst, Madam President," he teases as she sits up on her knees and he places the plate on the night table. He then moves to occupy her vacant spot, his head falling gently over her pillow, and he sighs contentedly, one arm thrown over his head while the other seeks out her breast.

He brushes his thumb over her nipple, kneads the swell for a bit, and then lets that hand fall down her front, ghosting over her torso and all the way down.

She's still wet. Wet and aching and ready for round three, and she grins wickedly when he feels it, one finger venturing inside her briefly before he moves to rub her clit.

"Fuck," he groans, rolling his hips a little.

And then Regina backs away, leans over him to grab the plate (her nipples brush his torso, and it makes him moan out her name), and scoops up just a bit of the pecan-coconut filling, turning the spoon over and eating the concoction while he watches.

She can't help it, lets out a soft _Mmm_ at the taste. It's rich and creamy and delicious, just as she thought it would be. The only thing that would make it taste better is...

"Stay still," she orders, then uses the spoon to grab some more filling, letting it fall just to the right side of his abs.

Regina smiles at him then, bends her head and sucks the sweetness right off, letting her tongue swirl a little over his skin and delighting in the muffled groan he gives in response.

"Delicious," she says with a mischievous grin, one that Robin returns with an amused one of his own as he watches her.

She's careful when she cuts into the cake, placing a tiny piece just above his belly button with the spoon, and then eating it, tickling him with the soft touch of her lips.

Robin squirms a little, but says nothing as Regina continues.

She adds a bit more of the filling to his torso, licks it away with gusto, tasting the rich mixture, the crunch of the pecans and the sweetness of the coconut contrasting with the smooth salt of his skin.

It's sticky, though, and as Robin predicted, quite messy, and she ends up with bits of coconut stuck to the corner of her mouth, even a little bit of the sugary frosting dabbed onto her nose, and he chuckles under his breath at the sight of her.

"This really isn't a very sexy cake," Regina decides, pouting at her husband. He laughs again, takes the plate from her and places it back on the nightstand, then inches her face towards his, their lips meeting in a heated kiss.

"You taste delicious," he tells her when they part, and, "very coconut-y."

Regina's response is a playful smack on his shoulder, and he laughs again, hoists her on top of him, so that her legs straddle him just over his stomach.

He wants to be inside her. She can see it in his eyes, the way they take in her naked form. Can feel it in the languid circling of his hips beneath her, searching for her.

But Regina won't give up that easily.

If she can't lick cake frosting off of him, she'll just have to lick him.

In seconds, she's crawling backward over his body, until her mouth is by his cock, her tongue peeking out to catch the pearly bead at his tip.

"You've no idea how much I fucking want you right now," Robin growls.

Regina smiles, _Mmm_ s at him, and bends to her task.

She licks up his shaft, pausing to smile in satisfaction when he hisses at the sensation. She wraps her lips around him when she reaches the tip again, sucking hungrily for a moment and delighting in his strangled cries of _Oh, fuck!_ and _Goddamn, Regina_. It's all the encouragement she needs to continue, slowly letting him go deeper and deeper, until she feels the tip of him hit the back of her throat as she swallows reflexively.

It takes her a moment to tame her gag reflex, as it always does, because he's thick and warm and so, so hard. There's a little thrill in doing this to him, though, a little current of pride that she can unravel him this way with just her mouth, so she seeks out that pride, smiles smugly when she flattens her tongue against his cock and he moans again.

Regina lets him bob out of her mouth with a wet little pop, then takes him in again, her hand meeting her lips where she holds the base of him. When she moves back up, her tongue teases his tip, her hand rising up his shaft to pull back his foreskin. She kisses and licks again, then lets him inside once more, holding her position for a moment before she lets him fall out of her lips, and curses rain down from above, the heaven of his body on full display for her as he jerks and moans out her name.

"You're fucking beautiful, did you know that?" he almost slurs, so caught up in the sight of her. "I could watch you suck my cock all fucking day."

He's cursing more than usual, she notices, and it excites her. He's missed her.

Regina strokes the base of his cock again, and when her mouth resumes its actions, sucking wetly at him, Robin all but whimpers, his fingers threading in her hair and scraping lightly against her scalp as she moves. He's not guiding her, exactly, just feeling her, enjoying her.

She _Mmm_ s around him again, the vibrations earning her a _God, yes, love, just like that!_ from him as she sucks again, taking him in as deep as she can go and then pulling out, repeating the motion over and over. In and out, in and out, slowly, deeply, his cock slick with her spit as he slides back in. And suddenly he's calling for her to stop, his words no more than a choked whisper.

"Please, Regina," he begs, "I need— _Fuck!_ — I need to be inside you."

She grins up at him, rises and moves to straddle him again, grabbing his cock in her hand and positioning him just right, and then she sinks onto him, cries out at the delicious feeling of him stretching her, filling her, and "Yes!" she moans.

Robin is looking up at her, his hands grabbing her waist and his tongue licking at his lips. Regina leans forward, laying her hands flat against the wall just behind the bed, her breasts right over his face. He wastes no time, takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks as she begins to move.

She starts with a slow circling of her hips, just enough to build up the friction, and then picks up the pace when he gives her nipple a particularly hard suck. His teeth then sink into the soft flesh of her breast, drawing out a low "Mmh!" from her.

"That's it, my love, just feel it," Robin murmurs, and Regina braces herself more firmly, drops her hands from the wall to the headboard and holds on tight as she starts moving even faster, almost bouncing on his cock as sweat builds and their moans get louder.

And she does feel it, feels the tension seizing her body the harder she goes, feels the delicious passes of his thumb over her clit now, the firm grip of his other hand still on her waist. She feels the heat between their bodies, feels the slick slide of her skin over his as she continues to rock her hips, and the headboard is squeaking, but she doesn't care. In fact, it only makes her go faster.

Robin has long since lost the ability to form coherent sentences, is muttering nonsensical things as he starts thrusting his hips upwards. It's a little awkward, but the angle they've found is just right, has him hitting that spot inside her on every stroke, and the third orgasm hits her suddenly, seizes her just as she drops one hand from the headboard and lands it on his chest, her nails sinking into his skin as she comes so hard she can barely breathe.

"Did you just— fuck, you did," she hears him mutter, his coherency returning briefly, and then he's grabbing her waist with both hands, and slamming her down onto him over and over again. Faster, harder, his breathing labored and quick as he goes, and Regina is still riding out her pleasure when he comes inside her, but she's not done, she can come again, she can feel herself just on the cusp of that fourth orgasm, all she needs is a little push.

"Robin, I—" she breaks off on a gasp when he starts rubbing her clit again, and that's it, that's perfect, that's all she needs. He goes faster, his cock still inside her as he tells her how sexy she is, how gorgeous, and then she's there, falling off that wonderful precipice as she comes one more time, exhaling his name against his chest when she slumps on top of him, nuzzling his neck.

They take a few moments to just rest, to calm their breathing a bit. Robin's fingers play with her hair, his lips planting kisses on her head.

"So..." Regina pants into his shoulder, "Am I forgiven for missing your birthday dinner?"

She feels him laugh, his chest rumbling under her. And his voice is raspy and beautiful as he teases, "You should miss it again next year."


	30. Mine

_The Evil Queen said "We do like it rough, don't we?" and then this happened..._

 _Written for days 1 and 2 of OQ Rough Sex Week_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Regina's fist punches the door open as she storms into the bedroom. She's livid.

All this time she's been trying to— He doesn't get to just— Ugh, she cannot _believe_ him.

"We are not done talking about this!" Robin barges in after her, and oh, he did not just shout at her like that. She is the President of the United States, not some dog he can just call and expect to obey.

"I have nothing more to say to you," she says haughtily, and feels a sick little pang of satisfaction at the frustrated huff he gives her in return.

"Good, then you can listen," he snaps, the door closing loudly behind him as he all but throws it shut.

"I will not listen to you when you're being ridiculous," Regina spits back, and the set of his brow deepens, his scowl almost comical.

"You cannot even say it, can you?" he hisses, "You can't accept that I'm right!"

"Because you're not!" she shouts back.

"Oh, is that so? Then tell me, Regina, why wasn't I involved in the negotiations for that trade agreement with Cambodia two days ago? Or the arms deal with the Saudis last week? Or what about the black ops mission to rescue those two soldiers this morning?"

"I'm the president, Robin, I don't need you by my side every minute of the day."

He rolls his eyes at that, and it has her seething.

"You don't get to just make these decisions without—"

"Without what? _Consulting_ you?" she throws at him, "I don't need you to hold my hand while I run the country, Robin, only I get to decide how I do things."

"I'm your Chief of Staff!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be!"

He lets out a frustrated yell at that, and then he walks closer, stalking towards her. Regina stands her ground, looking up at him defiantly.

She can see the tension on his neck, the way his hands shake with rage. He's angry, so angry. And she shouldn't find it sexy, shouldn't be thinking of just pouncing on him right this second, but she can't help it. They'd been in bed this morning, trading naughty touches and hot kisses, when this whole thing had started.

He'd asked her if she'd been excluding him on purpose, had used his talented fingers to get her going, and then dropped the question like a bomb.

Needless to say, it had put a damper on things. And now not only is she angry, she is also sexually frustrated.

From the moment she made him her Chief of Staff, Regina has been on the receiving end of some very nasty remarks from the party, and that, in turn, has ignited the appetite of critics and the press, something she cannot afford right now, when everything is still so shaky after the ordeal with Sidney six months ago.

The general public might consider her and Robin's story one of romance and adventure, but the reality within her ranks is a lot more grim than that.

She'd tried not to let it get to her, had tried time and again to not fall into the trap of fighting back, especially against people whose minds were already made up about her. She had tried to go on about her business and keep things running as smooth as possible, to let Robin's expertise speak for itself.

But of course, that hadn't been enough for the power-hungry politicians and resentful military officers who think her weak. She needed to do something drastic.

Regina has to prove to them that she can do this on her own, _has been_ doing it on her own all along. That Robin isn't whispering in her ear, telling her how to approach the situations presented to her, that she can handle her post without help.

"Is that what you want, then? You want me to leave?! Fine! Fire me! See if I care," he says in his ongoing tirade.

"Great, now you're just acting like a baby," she drawls.

"You have _no right_ saying that to me," he fires back, one clenched fist rising to point his index finger at her and wave it wildly as he continues. "You have been shutting me out for _weeks_ now, and it's all because you want those assholes to like you."

That finger now points to the door, with an irritated thrust of his arm to the side as he refers to said assholes, and then he keeps on talking, his outrage clear. "Don't talk to me about being immature when your entire approach to this has been nothing but childish, Regina."

She can feel the warmth from his body radiating onto her own. She's still so aroused from their interrupted foreplay earlier that having him so close to her has her body arching slightly in his direction.

His eyes momentarily drop from hers, and fixate on the tops of her breasts as they press tightly into her red blouse with her every inhale. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, his breathing heavy, and screw it, Regina decides. They can fight later.

She kisses him, wild and bruising. Grabs the lapels of his jacket and crashes their bodies together.

It takes him a moment, his body still rigid and unmoving as she bites his lower lip, but then he's groaning, kissing her back.

And then he stops.

His hands are firm as they grab onto her arms and pull her away, and Regina straightens her back, stares into his fiery eyes and scowls.

"What the hell are you doing?" Robin asks, refusing her.

Oh, that just won't do.

Regina moves her hand down and grasps his cock over his trousers, adding just a tiny bit of pressure to her grip, just enough to make him groan. He's hard. Not hard enough, but she'll solve that soon.

"What do you _think_ I'm doing?" she seethes. "You can yell at me all you want... _after_ you fuck me."

She doesn't give him a chance to reply, bites into his bottom lip again, pulling it roughly.

It does the trick, and next thing she knows, Robin's hands are on her ass, lifting her. Her legs wrap around him instantly, and her teeth are rabid, nibbling and tugging as she sinks her nails into his back.

Suddenly, he has her pressed against the wall, and the jostling he does to keep her upright and grant her better leverage has her jerking a leg to the night table and kicking her bedside lamp down to the floor. The clatter startles them both for a moment, and then his eyes are on hers, dark and full of fire before he goes right in and kisses her.

Her pencil skirt doesn't have much room for her to open her legs, and the hem of it presses tightly into her thigh, but she pays it no mind, just focuses on the hot, almost feral kisses he's bestowing on her, whimpers when his teeth bite at the swell of her left breast before he moves back up to her mouth.

His tongue is wild, almost violent as it tangles with hers, lips suckling harshly as he sinks his hand into her hair and tugs.

"Is this what you want?" he rasps when she gasps out a _Fuck!_ against his cheek, her hips rolling to seek friction, going faster when they find it against his cock. He's rock solid now, straining against the smooth fabric, and Regina all but grinds herself on him as her kisses turn more aggressive, her hands clutching at him.

Robin's hands fall from her ass then, letting her land on her feet with her front flush against his and her back pressed to the wall.

She has no time to protest the action, because his hands are suddenly there, grasping her shirt and pulling at it fiercely, buttons raining all over the carpet beneath them. She's wearing that new black bra that he likes, and it plays well into this little tryst, has him groaning as he bends down to kiss her breasts over the lace, her torn shirt still hanging loosely over her shoulders.

Next, he rucks her skirt up, until it's bunched around her belly, and she's launching forward to catch his lip with her teeth, then drifting down to nip at his chin and obscenely lick a trail up his jaw, until she's breathing fast and hot into his ear.

He's got a hand on her underwear now, shoving it aside furiously and giving her clit an unceremonious rub. It's...new. Not bad, not at all, but it's different. It lacks that reverent quality that always accompanies his touch, and something in her unravels at the idea that right now, he's not interested in making love to her.

Right now, he wants to _fuck_ her, just as badly as she wants to be fucked.

One finger thrusts up inside her, firm and fast as it moves in and out, and that's even better, she thinks, because the slapping of his hand against her has little vibrations hitting her clit just right, and pleasure blooms even in the wake of their hostile exchange.

"You're wet," Robin states, and it sounds almost accusatory, but he's enjoying it, too. She can see it in the way he swallows hard, feel it in the way he crashes his lips to hers, until she's slammed back against the wall once more, his hand adding a second finger and pistoning in hard and without preamble.

The action is shocking, but no less desirable, because the brusque movements have him hitting her G-spot almost instantly, and then she's crying out how fucking amazing it feels, _ordering_ him to keep going.

So of course, he stops.

"Is this what you want?" he asks again, his breathing ragged, and it occurs to her that she never answered that. But then, her actions are an answer all on their own, aren't they? Still...

"Yes," she rasps, because she realizes that it's not about actions, but about her having a choice in this. He's asking for permission, he wants to know that this is okay, even furious at her as he is.

She'd be moved by the gesture if she wasn't so frazzled.

Her spoken confirmation seems enough, though, and suddenly his hand is back between her legs, two fingers burying themselves inside her as she all but shouts her pleasure.

His mouth bends to her breasts, free hand pulling harshly at the lace that covers them as he sucks and licks her nipples. There's nothing delicate about it, rather, it's sloppy and bumpy and harsh, but it's _good_. He's unleashing his anger, and so is she, wrestling his suit jacket until it's off his body.

His white shirt is no longer crisp and tidy, but wrinkled and haphazardly unbuttoned at the top from her constant pulling. She wants so badly to rip it off just as he did hers, and Robin must guess her intentions, because then he's quickly taking it off himself, depriving her of her wish.

It doesn't stop her.

Her nails sink into his skin as she runs them down from his shoulders all the way to his abdomen, the muscles contracting under her coarse caress.

His hand bucks deeper into her, moves harder, faster, as he commands, "You excluded me on purpose. Never do that to me again."

Her breaths are quick, shallow, but she manages a haughty, "I'll do whatever I damn well please," in response, and it only seems to spur him on.

His thumb rubs over her clit now, round and round while his fingers circle inside her and hit that delicious spot over and over again. Regina can feel it building, can almost taste the sweet moment of release about to reach her, and the "Fuck, yes! Don't stop," she lets out is a hoarse whisper as her forehead falls into his chest, her hand wrapping around his forearm and squeezing so hard she can already tell she'll leave a mark.

And then the bastard stops again.

The noise of protest that erupts from her is unlike any she's ever made (or heard, for that matter), her nails sinking deeper into the skin of his arm, to the point that he hisses at the pain. Good.

"What part of 'Don't stop' did you not understand?!" she whines, but Robin doesn't reply, merely grabs her by the waist and hoists her up. Regina thinks for a second that he's about to throw her on the bed, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks out to the living area and sets her down against the green wall near the fainting couch.

He steps back for a moment, taking her in, and Regina makes the best of it by disposing of her torn shirt and the stupid skirt that has done nothing but get in the way. She tosses both items to the floor, not giving a damn where they land, and then moves to unbutton Robin's pants.

He's so hard. Bobs out of the constraint of his underwear when she gets rid of that, too, shoving it down his legs and letting him kick it off with an annoyed grunt. And then she's taking him in her mouth, sucking him in earnest, her hand pumping in time.

It's only a few seconds before he's burying his fingers in her hair and pulling, guiding her firmly, but not forcibly, over his cock. She sucks loud and wet, knowing the sound will drive him wild, and then he's bringing her up, tugging on her hair until he bobs out of her mouth and she rises to meet him.

His lips are strong, demanding as they fall onto hers, his tongue entering her mouth without the tentative peek he tends to give her. She loves this, loves how unbidden he's being, feels herself grow wetter, hotter, as he bites her lower lip, then moves to suck hard at her neck, marking her. She's told him countless times before she doesn't like hickeys. That it's important she doesn't have any, since she's constantly having her picture taken (or worse, video), but today she cannot bring herself to care.

When she pulls back, she grabs his hand in hers, runs it down the valley between her breasts. His finger catches on her bra for a second before she forces it down, down, until she's holding his wrist to guide his hand back to her sex, tightening her grip to keep him in place.

"Fuuuuck," he groans out when he feels how wet she's gotten, and then he's thrusting a finger inside once, twice, again, crooking and circling until he hits the right spot.

"God, yes! Right there," she tells him, and then a second finger joins the first, followed by a third one, and their combined girth has her stretching deliciously as he keeps thrusting, fucking her with his hand.

He's kissing her roughly, teeth sinking into her lower lip and pulling until she moans and claws at his shoulder. And then they're not kissing anymore, just hovering, mouths so close their shallow breaths mingle, foreheads meeting while he keeps fingering her. Her knees go weak, legs almost giving out as he hits her G-spot over and over, the sounds he makes sending her every sense into overdrive.

When he orders her to come, his voice low and gritty in her ear, his hand continuing with that driving rhythm of steady, hard in-and-outs while his other hand twists her nipples firmly, Regina is ready to obey.

In no time at all, she's shouting through her orgasm, riding his hand wildly where she stands pressed against the wall, and before she's even done feeling the waves of intense pleasure, Robin is sinking her into the fainting couch.

She hates this stupid couch. Always has. Hates the antique mahogany structure and the horrible flowered calico upholstery and the stiff cushions. She's never understood why it's even here.

But she's splayed on it now, with Robin looming almost menacingly above her, his eyes drinking in her debauched state as she lets one of her hands find his ass and squeeze.

Right when she thinks he's about to kiss her, his mouth deviates to her bra, teeth catching on the lace and pulling, pulling, pulling, until he lets go and it half-snaps back against her. The other cup is already awkwardly bunched under the swell of her breast, and Robin makes quick work of the one that's still in place, tugging until her nipple is free for his mouth to suck and bite once more.

It tingles. Her entire body tingles, still riding out the orgasm from before. Regina moans, one hand threading into his hair and giving it a harsh tug that has him growling into her neck.

Her back is propped up against the end of the couch, so that she's half sitting on it, her legs open as Robin settles between them. The tip of his cock bumps against her belly, leaving a bead of moisture there before Regina moves her hand to his shaft and pumps.

"Fuck!" he says when the pad of her thumb presses over his tip, his hips jerking as he kisses her fiercely.

There's nothing delicate about it, nothing serene, it's all teeth and wet, suckling noises that accompany the firm pull of his mouth over hers. Her lips are swollen, and she's still wet between the legs. So wet. And impatient. And angry.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" she grouses as she drops her hand from him, "Fuck me."

He growls again, bracing himself on the arm of the couch with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other, giving a few passes with it over her sex to tease her (annoy her, more like). Regina rolls her hips before she can stop the urge, and then solves to wipe the satisfied smirk off his face by bringing her hand up and wrapping it around his neck, not choking him, exactly, but adding just enough pressure to make him tense.

But he's got the advantage here, because his other hand is still on his cock, guiding him home in one quick stroke, and her grip falters when she moans at the feeling of finally having him inside her.

There's no reprieve, no time to adjust or enjoy the feeling of him there, because he's pulling out and slamming back in. Both his hands are now braced against the end of the couch, on either side of where she's resting her head. He's got one knee bent on the couch, his other leg stretched out, foot resting on the carpet under them, and the sight of him there, naked and wild and hot above her, has Regina moaning loudly.

She turns to the side, and sinks her teeth into his wrist where she can reach it, but only for a moment, because his next thrust is fast, hard, and it has her gasping in shock.

"You okay?" he asks, concern coloring his tone. Because he just can't stop being his wonderful, considerate self for one second, can he?

"Shut up and fuck me, Robin," she fires back, undulating her hips to bring him deeper.

He grunts at her remark, then pulls back and thrusts in again, and again and again, nailing her into the fainting couch over and over. Regina's back is rubbing against the stiff fabric behind her, and she should lift herself up a little, should put some distance between her and the upholstery so that it stops scraping against her skin, but the angle is _amazing_ , and the unrelenting rhythm Robin has set is fucking amazing, his movements hard and deep as she grabs his ass again and kneads there.

On a particularly strong thrust, he lingers, body pressed against hers as he moves to kiss her with an intensity that surprises her. He's not just angry, he's _hurt_. And she can feel it in the hurried, desperate bruising of his lips against hers, in the erratic circling of his hips, and the ragged breaths he lets out into her cheek when their kiss falls apart.

He doesn't stop moving, keeps bucking into her over and over again in that same delicious rhythm, but the atmosphere changes. It's no longer just about fighting, but about claiming each other. And it's then that Regina finally understands.

 _He thought she was leaving him behind._

Her free hand moves to grasp his face, curling her fingers over his cheek and chin, her eyes lost in the storm brewing in his. She realizes how much this thing between them has been plaguing him, how much pain she's caused him by excluding him from her work —his work, too, by extension— and sets to remedy that with an urgent kiss and another sharp roll of her hips.

His tongue plays with hers, his cock pounding into her as his jaw tenses under her touch, the scrape of his stubble rough and familiar under her fingertips. Her index finger slips into his mouth when they part, hovers just above his tongue as he breathes heavily and stares at her, hips still moving quick slapping into her, bouncing her against the arm of the couch, moans tumbling out of him at the feel of her.

She's right there, right on the edge, but she can't fall, not until the tension in his muscles eases, until she can drive away that cloud that darkens the blue of his gaze.

He's panting in the limited space between their faces, hot breath washing over her as she drags her hand down his throat and moves it to join the other at his ass, squeezing again with enough force for him to get the hint.

On the next thrust, he goes harder, deeper, better, and she feels herself climbing higher and higher.

"You are mine," she says between shallow breaths. It has nothing to do with what they were talking about before. Nothing at all. But it's what she needs to say, what she needs him to know.

"And you are mine," he rasps in response, moving in to kiss her once more. He doesn't let up, the pulsing tempo of his hips turning erratic as he picks up speed, and then she's there, that harsh tingle of unbelievable pressure tightening inside her, until it explodes in currents of ecstasy that ignite her very skin, her scream louder than the last, her hands clutching harder at him as their mouths clash together.

They don't kiss, not really, just pant into each other while the tips of their tongues brush together. In that moment it's just this, just them, and the intoxicating sensation of their bodies sliding together as Robin thrusts and thrusts, pounding her through the waves of her orgasm until he finally comes inside her, with broken gasps and a shout of her name that he mufflesagainst her shoulder.

His hips slow, but continue moving, rolling languidly in an attempt to cling to the last shreds of their pleasure. He mutters her name into her breast, kisses there and moves up her chest, to her neck and into her hair, his upper body all but curling into her as his cock softens inside her.

When he pulls away, Regina whimpers at the loss, then melts down into the couch until she's fully lying down, legs still as open as she can get them, with Robin now kneeling between them as she explores him with her eyes and sighs in satisfaction.

It's a little awkward then. Usually, they take a few minutes of lazy caresses and kisses before they move off of each other, but they had been fighting before this, and it's difficult to tell where they've left things. Regina isn't even sure she's angry anymore.

"I'm not phasing you out," she murmurs, avoiding his eyes as she rises to sit properly, her legs dangling off the couch now, toes skimming the carpet.

"Sure feels like it," she hears Robin reply petulantly.

"The party needed to see I could do things alone," she explains, and Robin only scowls.

"The party can fuck off."

"Yes, well, I'd rather not lose my job because of your stubbornness, thank you," Regina claps back, head snapping towards him defiantly. When all she gets is a scoff in reply, it's her turn to scowl.

And then Robin takes a deep breath, and shifts back to get up from the couch, and something about the finality of the action has her moving before she can even think to do so, her hand closing around his arm and stopping him from leaving.

"You are mine," she reminds him, "and I am yours. No matter what the party says, or what happens on the job, we still belong to each other."

Robin takes a deep breath at that, and Regina feels a flicker of relief light up in her heart when he sits beside her on the couch and takes her hand, thumb rubbing back and forth over her skin.

"You should have just told me," he says, and she rolls her eyes, despite the guilt that gnaws at her heart thanks to the dejected tone in which he speaks.

"Like you would've just stepped aside without a fight," she says with a raise of her eyebrow.

"I don't like being blindsided, Regina," he throws back, eyes slightly narrowed as they focus on her, his thumb pausing in its gentle rubbing over her knuckles.

She sighs then, because fine, he's right on that count, and she tells him so.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, looking down at the hand he still has grasped in his.

"Yeah. Me, too," he says with a sigh, and his thumb starts caressing her knuckles again.

"Did you really want me to fire you?" she asks then, smirking at him as they both remember his harsh words from earlier.

Robin chuckles, shakes his head and admits that _No, not really._

"I quite like my job, actually," he says after a pause. "I'd like it more if you'd let me do it."

Regina huffs at that, rolls her eyes again, but playfully this time.

"Okay, I deserve that," she admits. "Now stop."

He gives her a little laugh, one that warms the deepest corners of her soul as she watches light flicker back in his eyes.

"Are we okay?" she asks, her hand going to the back of his neck and playing with the hair there.

Robin leans forward, catching her lips in a sweet kiss.

"We're okay," he says when they part.

"I'm meeting with the Hungarian foreign minister tonight. Wanna join me?" she asks him then, and his eyes widen, then sparkle with mirth as he shakes his head.

"Oh, no, you are not sticking me with boring old Mr. Nagy again. Last state dinner he talked for an hour about the new chandelier in his mansion. One. Hour. Gushing over a bloody chandelier!"

Regina tries, she really tries to contain her grin, but can't quite manage it as she insists, "Oh, come on, he's nice!"

"And I shall appreciate how nice he is... from a very long distance."

"I thought you wanted us to work together," she retorts.

"The party needs to know you can do things on your own, Regina," he tells her in a mock-stern tone.

"Oh, that is low," she says with a laugh, grabbing the cushion closest to her and smacking him with it.

"I'm only looking out for your best interests, Madam President," he defends, putting his hands up to shield himself from yet another whack of the cushion before he rises, walking hurriedly back into the bedroom while Regina stays on the couch, giggling at the sight of him bare-assed and fleeing from her.

"Hey," he calls to her, popping his head back into the suite.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She smiles at that, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with one hand as she hugs the cushion to her torso with the other.

"I love you, too," she replies.

When she hears the shower running a few minutes later, Regina gets up to join him, their fight all but forgotten.


	31. Stronger Together

**_For my friends, who requested badass awesome MP Regina and adorable Robin... I hope this fluffy offers the comfort you were seeking after this hellish week._**

* * *

When she took this job last year, Regina vowed to do good. To govern fairly. To guide America down a good path and leave the presidency with her country in much better shape than she found it.

She's been trying her best. Showing her people that they chose correctly when they voted for her. Protecting defined liberties and offering new ones, although foreign policy issues and the whole Sidney ordeal have gotten in the way of her doing _more_.

Today, though, after an arduous process of pandering to House and Senate and negotiating the votes, she finally gets to fulfill a little bit of that promise she made when she announced her candidacy.

One of the big focus points of her campaign has always been the defense of women's rights. And that defense is about to start materializing, in the form of a law that will allow paid maternity leave for women in all work sectors.

She can't have children, and Roland is not a baby, so Regina will never really experience first-hand how hard it is, for working mothers to deal with the first expensive and time-consuming few months of a child's life. But she doesn't need to live it to know that paid maternity leave should be guaranteed to women across every industry in America.

Congress, of course, had opposed it at first. Regina often wonders how she even became president, considering the amount of sexism she has to deal with on a daily basis. She'd been turned down endless times, both as governor of Maine and as Commander in Chief. But she has pushed on, has dealt with the criticism, the bad press and the endless nights of reviewing and researching, and finally, finally, the bill has passed.

The biggest obstacle had been the length of the paid leave. Regina had pushed for a year, but was met with a solid wall of opposition no matter how hard she tried to negotiate. Finally, after exhausting talks with some of the most influential senators, she'd agreed to bring it down to six months, and negotiations had become less difficult after that.

Robin won't admit it, will credit the success of this bill entirely to her, but he's been a large part of it. Regina knows he's been working tirelessly to get her the necessary votes in the Senate. He's made friends there (frenemies, more like) since he took over as her Chief of Staff, and has been using those connections to negotiate on her behalf and settle with those congressmen who are reticent about the new law.

She loves him all the more for it.

It wasn't long ago that she'd been trying to exclude him from things like this. To push him away from his duties so that she could show her party she could handle all of this on her own, and Regina has regretted that decision every day since. Robin's support has been unwavering, and has kept her going even in the moments where she thought all was lost.

She remembers the distinct feeling of disappointment, of helplessness, that had overwhelmed her about a month ago, when it looked like they'd never get the bill through the House. Remembers Robin's soothing voice as he'd promised her it would all turn out well in the end, remembers the warmth of his hand on her back from where he stood behind her. She doesn't like crying in front of him, in front of anyone, so she'd turned her back on him to avoid showing her tears of frustration. He'd been patient, comforted her until she was ready to look at him, and then he'd held her, kissed her hair and reminded her the fight was not over. They would win this.

And win it they have.

She's sitting there, alone in the oval office, admiring her copy of the new Paid Family Leave Act, when she hears Robin's soft warning knock on the side door.

"Hello, my love," he greets, his voice low, intimate.

Regina smiles at him when he enters, waits patiently for him to make his way around the desk and lean down to kiss her hello. He's going for something sweet, chaste, but Regina grabs on to his tie and keeps him there, deepens the kiss with a slow pass of her tongue over his bottom lip.

"Mmm," he says when they part, and then perches himself on her desk, arms crossed over his chest as he smiles down at her. "Missed you at dinner. Busy night?"

"Not exactly," she admits, "I just... needed a moment."

Her grip on the printed bill tightens at that, catching his eye, and Robin nods in understanding as he stands and moves around her chair, leaning down behind her to kiss her cheek and nuzzle her hair.

"You did it," he whispers in her ear, and she can almost taste the sweetness of his pride in her as he says it, her smile growing as she swivels her chair slightly and turns to look straight at him.

"We did it," she corrects, her forehead touching his after she pecks his lips. "Thank you," she adds, "for everything you did to make this happen. I know it wasn't easy."

"You did all the work. All I did was... take on a few pig-headed congressmen."

"And without that, the bill wouldn't have passed, so stop pretending it's nothing and accept my gratitude, will you?" she chastises lightly, making him chuckle in their close proximity.

"Bossy," he taunts.

"President," Regina retorts, and Robin lets out another breathy laugh that matches her own.

They stay there, just like that, his fingers playing gently with her hair, content smiles on both their faces, and for a moment everything feels... perfect. This is what she's always wanted, _this_ is why she took the job. And Regina has never been more glad that Robin decided to come along on this crazy ride.

Her happy sigh fans over him, makes him pull back and kiss the tip of her nose, his voice a calm whisper as he asks her if she's coming to the bedroom soon.

"Yeah, I'll meet you there, just have a couple more things to wrap up here."

"Need any help?" he offers, fingertips ghosting down the back of her neck and kneading there, working away the slight tension that always resides there. Regina melts under his touch.

"Mmm," she sinks into it, lets him massage her shoulders as he moves to stand behind her once more, eyes closed as she tells him, "No, I'm okay. You go on up."

"You sure?" he asks again, and god, those hands, the way they rub over her sore muscles, the softness of his voice... she could curl up into the warmth of him and never, ever leave.

"I'm sure," she rasps. Because if he stays, there's no way she'll be able to finish the last few things she has pending, so she raises her hand, puts it over his on her shoulder, and tilts her head back to look up at him. "I'll see you in a bit."

He busses her lips gently, the upside-down angle making it a little awkward, but she kisses back nonetheless, then holds his hand until he's moved too far to be in her reach, and she watches him go with a smile, turning back to her work when the door closes behind him.

When she gets to the room, there's a bottle of champagne resting on a silver bucket of ice, two crystal flutes on her night table, and Robin is nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, his hands wrap around her waist from behind, and Regina leans back into his naked torso, lets out a slow breath as he starts to sway them both from one side to the other, his lips kissing a trail down her neck. Her hand moves up to play with his hair, her eyes closing as she enjoys his attentions.

"What's this?" she asks when he's moved them to the foot of the bed, head tilting in the direction of the champagne.

Robin wordlessly moves to pour their drinks, only speaks when he's done and finally hands a glass to her.

"I thought we could celebrate," he tells her, grinning as he sets the bottle back into the bucket, raising his glass to her.

"To you, my love, and to this most marvelous accomplishment."

Their glasses clink together, and the atmosphere is quiet as they drink, intimate. Regina takes this moment to relax, to appreciate, to bask in the sight of her shirtless husband as he pours her more champagne, her fingers playing with the soft fabric of his pajama pants, her eyes following the movement for a few seconds.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"That's just it. Nothing. Nothing is wrong, I'm... happy," she admits, dropping her heels as she brings her legs up and curls them under her on the bed. Her skirt will wrinkle, but she doesn't care, can't even bring herself to change into more comfortable clothes, entranced as she is by the serenity of her surroundings.

Her wonderful husband, of course, reads her easily, and takes her champagne flute from her, placing both on the nightstand again and rising from the bed, his hands making quick work of her blazer and blouse, undressing her and caressing her skin with the warmth of his.

Once she's stripped down to her underwear, Regina lies down on the bed, stretches while he walks back to the closet and brings out his old Rolling Stones T-shirt. It's the worn, soft gray one that she likes, and she gladly lets him slip it over her, cozying up into his body when he joins her and holds her to him, his head falling onto the pillow as hers moves to his chest, one arm thrown over his stomach, her leg draped over his thighs.

"Still have to take off my makeup," she tells him. "Don't wanna wake up with racoon eyes and scare you off."

The little laugh he lets out jostles them both.

"I'm sure I can handle it, my love," he assures her, and the arm he's got wrapped around her shifts a little, so that his hand is back to playing with her hair, his lips dropping a kiss to her forehead.

Regina _Mmm_ s at him, turns her head for a moment to plant a kiss on his chest, then reassumes her position. She'll have to get up and wash her face in a bit, no matter how willing he is to see her with mascara streaks tomorrow morning. But for now, she chooses to take a few minutes to rest, a few minutes to mentally pat herself on the back for getting the job done.

A few minutes to enjoy this wonderful life she's built thanks to the trust her people have put in her. A trust she's finally starting to believe she's worthy of.


	32. Ours

**_Based on this prompt: Regina loses her wedding ring. Bonus points if she and Robin are in another country._**

* * *

Turkey has one of the most beautiful sunsets she's ever seen.

The air smells of spices, the dying rays of late afternoon touching delicately upon the imposing structure of Istanbul's Blue Mosque, visible just outside her window. The light reflects on the surface of the water, too, creating an array of blues and pinks and oranges that would be breathtaking, were Regina not in the desolate mood she's in at the moment.

This trip was meant to be a good one, a chance for them to enjoy each other away from the pressures of the White House. It's a cultural visit, nothing more, no big agenda to take care of, just a few days out of Washington to meet with the leaders of Turkey and see a little bit of the country.

Instead, it had turned into a fight on Air Force One, and now she's here, in her hotel room, without her husband, hating every second she spends away from him.

She can't face him, though, not yet, because she feels she'll burst into tears the second she sets eyes on him, and she can't do that. She has to be stronger than that.

It's strange how, after everything they've been through, _this_ is what gets her, a simple discussion about Roland's education landed them in one of the biggest arguments they've ever had. She wants him home schooled, wants a suitable teacher to come to the White House every day and work with him instead of sending him off to school. For his safety, she'd argued, just so that they're better able to keep an eye on him.

Robin had refused.

He needs a normal school experience, he'd told her, needs to interact with kids his age and make friends. And sure, Regina can see the point in that, but it's not like Roland is a lonely child. He has playdates almost every day with the children of staff members, sometimes even diplomats.

"It's not the same, Regina," Robin had told her, and his tone was so condescending, his words slow, like she was the child and not the parent. It had ignited this anger in her that she hadn't been able to snuff out.

"I don't want him in a place where I can't see him," she'd insisted.

"I know, and I understand, my love, but that's what the Secret Service is for. He'll have a detail keeping him safe, he'll—"

"I had a detail and we both still ended up in a hospital with gunshots," she'd remarked, and it was a low blow, a very low blow, because she knows how much it pains him still that he couldn't protect her, how much he regrets not putting the pieces together sooner.

The comment had brought his ire into play, and he'd almost growled with frustration, his neck taut and tense as he'd gritted his teeth and told her, "This isn't the same, Sidney's dead."

"I have other enemies, some of them with nuclear bombs, in case you didn't know."

"If someone decided to set off a nuclear bomb in Washington, do you think it would matter whether he's at home or at school? We'd all end up dead anyway!" he'd fired back. A morbid notion, if she's ever heard one, but he'd been right.

She wasn't about to let him know that, though.

"I'm trying to protect him," she'd settled on, her tone snappier than she'd meant it to be.

"No, you're trying to shelter him, it's different."

It'd become a bit of a screaming match after that. Thankfully, the conference room they'd been in on Air Force One was soundproof, otherwise the entire staff would've heard their harsh words and angry tones.

Regina doesn't like it when they yell at each other, not at all, but she can handle it, can see past his pigheaded stubbornness and understand his point. And then he'd said something, something that had shattered her heart into a million pieces. One specific word that broke her in ways nothing else ever has.

"I will not have my son grow up as an outsider just because you're too scared to let him experience the world as he should!"

She'd backed out then, quietly stepped away and left the room. He'd tried to stop her by calling out her name, but Regina hadn't looked back.

Instead, she had locked herself up in her study, sunk to the floor with her back against the door, and cried for the rest of the flight.

A soft knock startles her from her somber musings, has her turning from the window with her arms crossed over her chest. And there is her assistant, telling her it's almost time for her dinner with Turkey's committee for cultural development. Ruby will be stopping by in a few minutes to help with her gown.

"Got it. Thanks, Ingrid."

The blonde nods and leaves, door shutting softly behind her, and Regina looks at the garment bag placed over the bed, takes a deep breath, and starts getting ready.

* * *

There's something off. Something that has her on edge all throughout the meal, and for the life of her, Regina cannot figure out what that is.

It may have to do with the fact that Robin isn't at the dinner. But no, that can't be it, the plan was always for her to attend solo, while Robin meets with the American Ambassador. Still, she feels... uneasy.

By the time dessert is being served, she finally figures out why.

There's a moment, when the discussion between her and one of the Turkish leaders becomes a little too political, that she gets nervous. She's not supposed to discuss politics on this visit, lest they bring up the new arms deal Turkey wants to negotiate, a deal she's not yet ready to comply with.

Still, they keep turning the subject back to that one topic, and her frazzled nerves have her fidgeting noticeably, so she seeks comfort, tries to appease her own tumultuous mind with physical reassurance, her thumb seeking her ring finger to twirl her wedding band. It's become a habit of hers to do this when she needs to settle down. The repetitive motion is one that helps her breathe, helps her regroup even while maintaining the diplomatic facade that's expected of her at these events...

Only, when she tries to turn the white gold band that usually accompanies her engagement ring, she meets skin instead of the smooth metal texture.

Confused, Regina looks down, and finds that yes, her wedding ring is indeed missing.

The words of the portly man beside her fade away into an echoing chorus of _Bla bla bla_ , and she distractedly excuses herself and rises from her chair, hauling her too-heavy, floor length gown in her hands as she walks to the door as fast as her heels will allow.

She finds Ruby at the small part of the venue designated for her staff, pays no mind to the startled looks and hurried greetings of _President Mills_ and _Ma'am_ she gets from everyone there, and her urgency must show on her face, because Ruby does not even stop to greet her.

"What's wrong?" she asks right away.

It's only then that Regina realizes it may not be best to air her troubles in front of the entire staff, and asks for a private word, dragging her to the corner for privacy.

"My wedding ring is gone," she tells her, and to Ruby's credit, she doesn't flinch, doesn't even roll her eyes at the knowledge that this isn't some life-or-death state matter.

"We'll find it," she promises instead, her tone resolute and firm. "When did you last have it?"

"I have no idea, I looked down and suddenly it wasn't there," Regina responds desperately, her voice trembling as she does.

The young woman's hands land on her arms, hold them firmly as she tells her again, "Madam President? Listen to me, it's okay, I'll find it. It probably just fell out of your jewelry box back at the room. No big deal. But right now, you need to get back to your event. Just tell Agent Little to grant me access to the room and I'll look for it, okay?"

Regina nods, takes a deep breath to calm her trembling hands. It shouldn't affect her so much, it's a ring, losing it doesn't mean she and Robin don't love each other.

But it is also the symbol of their commitment to one another, the token of each other's affection that sealed their lives together when they married.

"I need that ring back, Ruby," she pleads.

"You'll have it, it's gonna be fine," her stylist promises again, and hurries out of there, while Regina is left to exchange awkward smiles with the remaining staff, and head back to the dinner in her honor.

* * *

Ruby tells her she tried.

Her voice is shaky as she tells her over and over again that she's looked everywhere, that she has no idea where it could be, but that if she just gives her a couple more hours maybe she can—

Regina stops her there, shakes her head, and tells her it's fine, this isn't her fault.

"Thank you, though, for trying," she says.

When the woman has left, Regina turns the hotel room upside down, frantically searching for the ring before Robin gets in. But her efforts are to no avail, and the ring remains lost.

When he arrives just before midnight, she pretends to be asleep, partly because she doesn't want him to notice what she's missing, and partly because she really has no energy to pick their argument back up.

He's gone before she wakes the morning after, and Regina thanks whatever god is out there for small miracles. At least this means she has a few more hours to find the ring before she has to tell him she's lost it.

Except the thing never does turn up, and she's forced to go another night without it, burying her hand under the pillow to stop him from seeing it when he joins her in the room.

"Regina, I... I want us to talk about this. Please, say something," he whispers into the darkness, his hand seeking hers under the covers. She jerks it away as if burned, and she doesn't need more than the moonlight streaming in from outside to see how much the action hurts him.

She turns over, so that her back is facing him, and goes to sleep, his frustrated sigh cutting into her very soul.

* * *

The next morning, he parks himself at the hotel room door, and refuses to let her leave until they've talked things out.

"Robin, I don't have time for this right now," she says with a roll of her eyes. "People are expecting me."

"Tough luck," he retorts with a shrug.

"Fine, go ahead, tell me again how I'm being paranoid and ridiculous, but do it fast, I have a meeting to attend," she drones, arms crossed over her chest, and it makes him clench his teeth in anger.

"Don't condescend me, Regina. I'm trying to get you to talk to me so we can fix this. Because I love you, and I hate that you're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you," she argues, her tone sounding petulant even to her.

"Then why can't you even look me in the eye?! Are you really that proud that you can't accept you've made a mistake?" he claps back, and oh, no. That is not gonna fly with her. He has no right, _no right_ , to treat her like her anger isn't warranted, like she's the one who's wrong in all this.

"Oh, so now I made a mistake? Really? That's rich coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tell me, Robin, did you even stop to think about how I would feel? What it would do to me?"

"What _what_ would do to you?!" he is frustrated, and seems genuinely clueless as to how he's hurt her. It only makes her angrier.

"You said he was yours!" she yells back, and suddenly there are tears, hot and traitorous, brimming quickly her eyes until they spill, falling in salty tracks down her cheeks.

He looks confused at her words, frowns and tries to make sense of what she's just said, and Regina cannot believe he'd be so oblivious to this.

"'I don't want my son to grow up as an outsider'. That's what you said. You called him yours. Not ours, _yours_. You don't see me as his mother, you never have."

She's stunned him into silence, realization dawning on him as she speaks.

"Oh, Regina," he says, slowly walking closer, seeking her out. But she doesn't want this right now, doesn't want to hear him appease her and tell her he didn't mean it. Right now, she just wants to leave.

When his hand touches her arm, she flinches away, and uses his shock to her advantage. She walks out of the room, leaves him to stare after her.

She powers through her meetings, smiles for the cameras and tries her best to enjoy the beautiful things being shown to her. She tours Istanbul with a few diplomats, meets her Ambassador for coffee, even shops for a few souvenirs at the market... But nothing feels as it should. The colors seem duller, the air stuffier, even the sight of the ocean, with its gentle waves and its ability to swallow the noise around her, doesn't help calm her overtaxed mind. Instead, it makes her sad thoughts gain a rhythm as they wash back and forth in her head in time with the surf.

"Maybe we should head back now," she says, standing on a secure spot by the docks, looking out at the view before her. She expects her assistant to answer, but is met with silence.

"Ingrid?" she calls out, still looking out at the water, at the yachts and fishing boats moving in it.

Again, she gets no response, but two strong and very familiar arms wrap around her from behind just then, and she can't resist, rather lets her body fall back against him and sighs, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"I'm so sorry," Robin whispers into her hair, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves and gusting wind. She hears seagulls as she closes her eyes and lets her head drop back to his shoulder, and then the soft touch of his lips is on her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, each kiss marked with a heartfelt _Sorry_.

"I didn't realize," he admits. "Clearly, I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly," she echoes in a dejected tone.

"I'd never want to hurt you that way, Regina, you have to believe that. And of course he's our son. I didn't mean that he was mine alone when I said that. Come to think of it, I've always thought him 'ours' in some capacity. Even when we were just friends. You and Roland have always been so close, I would never, for one second, doubt your relationship or want to take it from you."

His speech is murmured into her ear, and Regina listens, believes it, believes him, but the ache of that dreadful moment still rings loud and clear. He must sense it, because he lets go of her, moves back to the bench behind them for a second, and then resumes his position, his cheek pressed against hers as he presents her with a manila envelope, urging her to open it.

She finds documents inside, of course, sheets of paper the wind tries to wrestle away from her grasp, but she holds tight, reads over the first few paragraphs of the top page, and gasps, free hand covering her mouth as tears start to prickle at her eyes.

"Is this what I think it is?" her voice breaks as she utters the question, and she feels Robin's chin dig into her shoulder as he nods.

"I had them drawn last month, and have carried them everywhere with me since then. Things have been so crazy, I haven't really had time to sit down with you to discuss it and get all the required documents together, but... And I know it's not a necessary step, because we've never needed a piece of paper to tell us Roland is our son. But I want it to be official. You're his mother, Regina, always. Even when I'm a bloody idiot and make you feel like you're not."

She chuckles at that, and then sniffles, because she's crying again, can't help it. Robin's grip on her tightens, his nose burrowing into her neck as he places yet another kiss there and apologizes again.

"Is that why you took your ring off? Because you thought I didn't see you as his mum?" he asks her then, his voice hesitant as he grabs her hand with his and rubs his thumb over her ring finger. "I'm sorry I was an arse, but there's no reason we can't work past this. I promise, I won't ever make you feel like that again. And if homeschooling will make you feel better, then we'll do it, but please, don't write us off like this, my love."

He's talking to her like... like he's trying to convince her to stay. Like he's fearful this was just too much for her to handle. So she hurries to explain, moving away from his embrace and turning to look him in the eye.

"No, no, it wasn't that. I _lost_ my ring. I didn't... Ruby thinks it fell out of my jewellery box last night and we can't find it."

His answering _Oh_ is a long sigh, deep and relieved.

"And you're right, Roland should have as normal a life as possible, and Sidney's gone now, he can't harm him." She exhales loudly as she says it, then adds, "We can look into schools when we get back. Just promise me it'll be one we can surround with the entire Secret Service if we want to. I need it to be one where we can keep him safe."

"Deal," he tells her, dotting a kiss to the tip of her nose.

"You thought I wanted to leave you?" she asks then, frowning a little.

"I... I don't know what I thought, exactly, it just... scared me."

And to her own surprise, she smiles, shakes her head as she places the adoption papers back into their envelope and drops it on the bench, her hands now free to cup his face and bring it down to her own. His hands move to rest over hers on his cheeks, his nose brushing hers gently before she lands a kiss on his lips.

"Never gonna happen," she tells him, "I'm with you. Always."

He smiles at that, his arms moving down to loop around her waist. Her security detail are posted just a couple of feet away, and have likely heard their entire exchange, but Regina doesn't care about that right now, because finally, the pinks and oranges of the sunset look as cheery as she'd expected, and the sunlight on the water is sparkly and playful. The warm air is no longer stifling, but rather pleasant and invigorating, and the sights and sounds she'd thought dull and muted before, now spring to life and unravel in a whirl of color, peaceful and wonderful, with the scent of cardamom permeating their surroundings as she stands there in her husband's arms, taking in the beauty of this faraway land.

* * *

Ruby finds the ring that same night while they're packing, inside the garment bag that had held Regina's gown for that elegant dinner. She presents it to her and Robin with the proudest of smiles, and Regina thanks her profusely.

When they're alone, Robin slips it back onto her finger, kisses it, and together, they board Air Force One an hour later, ready to fly back home to their son.


	33. Terror

_A late birthday present for my badass dragon friend Carissa. Here's to many more!_

 _Warning: Here be angst... and a tiny bit of smut. Not necessarily in that order._

* * *

Attorney General.

That was supposed to be her job in David's administration, that's what she was supposed to do after her time off.

And then the position for Secretary of State had opened up, and David had brought it to her.

She'd been foolish enough to let the title seduce her, to accept the job simply because it reminded her of the one she'd left behind maybe a good four years too soon.

Regina doesn't regret leaving office without a second term, though. Not when she thinks of all the things she's been able to do since then, of the freedom she's been able to enjoy with her family, now that the pressing worry of anonymous threats and the demanding schedule of the presidency are a thing of the past. As much as she misses the job, she doesn't miss the anxiety, the state of constant vigilance, the 22-hour days and the expressions of poorly-concealed panic in the faces of her staff whenever some new catastrophe hit.

The new job was the first of many changes she hadn't seen coming.

When they learned that Malcolm Spinner had been fired for getting a bit too handsy with the White House alcohol cabinets last November, it wasn't surprising to hear that David wanted Robin to take over as new Chief of Staff to the President. But Regina was due to start as Secretary of State in January, with Robin at her side. He'd been her Chief of Staff for so long that they'd floundered a little at first, and even discussed him turning down the position, but saying no to the President just didn't feel right, despite David's insistence that it would be fine if they did.

Thankfully, the shift provided the perfect opportunity for Ursula to return to her post, after Regina had a very stern discussion with her about how she never should've left in the first place. What happened with Sidney was not her fault, or anyone's for that matter, and it was about time they stopped living in the shadow of what that man had done. Time to embrace new things. Better things.

Regina can't deny she misses having her husband's delectable physique in close proximity during her work day. But for Ursula the job had been like riding a bike, and the transition between her and Robin has been smooth and without issue.

And really, as Secretary of State, not only has Regina made history by being the first former president to take up a cabinet position, she has also found a job that gives her the best of both worlds. So maybe the Attorney General position would've been just a little less high profile than this one, but running the State Department is exciting, full of its own challenges. Her staff is made up of people from different backgrounds and cultures, people who provide great insight into international conflicts and make her job not only easier, but more fulfilling.

So when Regina gets up on a cold Thursday in early April, it's a morning like any other, the same routine for the past four months. The same security checks, same last-minute change of clothes when she decides one outfit looks better than the other, the same WORLD'S BEST MOM (AND WIFE, as scribbled by Robin on permanent marker next to the bold lettering) mug full of coffee, and the same calls: one to Ursula, to see if there's any urgent business that needs tending to; one to her assistant, Ingrid, to go through her schedule for the day. And one to the White House, more specifically the office of the President's Chief of Staff, to let Robin's secretary know he is already on his way.

He leaves earlier than she does now, and it's bizarre still, to wake up and find his side of the bed empty and cold. But there are mornings where he rouses her when he's almost out the door, with peppered kisses along her spine and whispers of _Good morning, my love._

Today had been one of those, and more.

His morning greeting tumbled out of him while he blazed a trail of teasing little pecks along her body, his arms moving to turn her on her back and strip her of the covers.

She'd been a little too sleepy to comprehend what he was doing at first, but then his tongue had found her clit and started flicking at it. Using her lazy cries of pleasure as cues, his mouth had sucked and nibbled at her, humming his enjoyment as little slurpy sounds and the exquisite feeling of his lips on her sex had turned her into a wet, panting mess.

"Fuck me," she'd gasped on a particularly hard suck.

He hadn't, though. He'd already been dressed, and already late for work, so instead, he'd stayed between her legs, burying his tongue inside her as his hands kept her legs open wide.

She'd whimpered at the delicious pull of his lips on her sex, getting wetter and wetter by the second. He'd pushed away for just a few seconds, just enough to take in the riled up state of her, and given her that smug smile she loves to wipe off with kisses, right before he'd gone back in and licked at her again.

Her entire body had been on fire, and it aches for him even now, as she remembers how raspy his voice had sounded when he told her how _fucking beautiful_ she looked, how much he loved her.

"God, I love you too," she'd whined, "love it when you— _mmh!_ eat me like thi— _Yes!_ Just like that."

Her words had only spurred him on, his mouth ravenous over her sensitive nub, sucking hard as his hand gripped her thigh that much tighter, letting out a low _Mmm_ that had driven her wild as the vibrations hit her heated skin.

He'd kept at it, eating her until she'd had to slam a throw pillow against her mouth to keep from screaming. And then his hand had come into play, two fingers pushing into her in deep, well-timed thrusts that hit that blissful spot inside her just right, his other hand moving up, up, up to grasp a breast and toy with her nipple.

The combined sensations had her practically mewling as she'd squirmed on the bed, her hand burying itself in his hair and tugging as she begged "Don't stop, don't stop, _god, yes,_ your tongue feels amazing," in broken moans.

"Fuck, I love it when you talk to me like that," he'd grunted before putting his mouth back on her, flicking his tongue over her clit again as his fingers picked up speed.

"Yes! Yes! Right there, oh! Feels so good when you fuck me with your fingers like that," Regina had gasped, her hand pulling at his hair a little more, satisfaction blooming warm in her chest when he'd groaned at the feeling.

He'd added a third finger then, thrusting harder, deeper, his mouth sucking and lapping at her, and on his gruff _Come for me, my love_ , she'd shattered, orgasm rippling in electric waves of pleasure throughout her body, her hand tugging him away from her and urging him to lie atop her, lips kissing his swollen ones wildly as his fingers wedged back down between them to toy with her too-sensitive clit with teasing little rubs.

She'd writhed under him at that, kissed him harder, moaning loudly into his mouth when his hand had found her breast again, his lips following right after, sucking at one nipple and then the other, prolonging her high.

He'd left her there with a goodbye peck and a self-satisfied smile, adjusting himself in his pants before he wished her a good day and walked out the door just three minutes before her alarm went off.

The memory of it all has her entire body tingling and wanting more.

Yes, she thinks as she sips her coffee, she rather loves mornings like today.

Her son is an active boy of ten now, always eager for adventure, but at 7AM he's as moody as they come, and getting him out of bed is an arduous task.

This morning he giggles, though, doesn't grouse the usual _Mooooommmm it's earlyyyyy_ she's in the habit of hearing. Instead, he throws the covers off and pats the spot next to him on the bed, letting her climb in for a moment of sleepy hugs and lazy morning greetings.

"John will handle your detail again today, okay?" she tells him, kissing his mop of dark curls, reveling in the faint scent of that berry shampoo he thankfully doesn't think himself too old for yet.

"Alan still sick?" he asks after his usual Secret Service agent.

"Yep. He called in last night, after you went to bed. I told him to stay home and rest."

"'Kay," he agrees easily, cuddling closer into her and breathing deep. "Do I really have to go to school?" he whines, making her chuckle.

"Yes, mister, stop being lazy," she teases. "Come on, get up, there's a new box of Lucky Charms in the kitchen for you to tear into."

He perks up at that, and kisses her cheek before rising from the bed, scratching the back of his head as he walks to the bathroom. The action is so reminiscent of his father, Regina can't help but laugh.

* * *

She watches him climb into the car a half hour later, with a kiss to his forehead that he half-heartedly tries to squirm out of. Despite being a total momma's boy when he's at home, Roland is starting to become a bit uncomfortable with Regina's public displays of motherly affection, something that reminds her of the fact that her little baby is growing up. Way too fast for her liking.

Suddenly she's even more thankful that he still likes that berry shampoo.

The ride to the State Department is quiet, the vestiges of her lazy morning still clinging to her despite the fast-paced rhythm already overtaking the city. Her driver is chipper, and chats with her about the newest episode of Cake Boss, a guilty pleasure they both share. He tells her his wife is going to try her hand at buttercream, and she gives him a few tips to pass along.

"Thanks, Anton, and let me know how that frosting turns out, alright?" she says as she leaves the car, and he smiles and thanks her, wishing her a good day just before the window rolls up.

Her detail walks her inside, gets her through security clearance, and then she's on her own, walking briskly towards her office, eager to grab one of those blueberry muffins they serve in the break room before they're all gone.

She's got twelve messages waiting for her on her desk, and they're all about the China Deal. And all from the same person, she realizes upon closer inspection. Congressman Albert Spencer.

She should've known.

Spencer has been a devoted advocate of the China Deal for ages. He'd wined and dined her and her senior staff for weeks as a way to insist on making that agreement happen.

The China Deal is a prospective contract between the People's Republic of China and the United States of America to develop and use new fracking technology in Alaska. Regina has been against it since the last year of her presidency, when it had first come up. She'd refused to hear of it while in office, citing the many terrible environmental consequences of fracking, especially in Alaska.

Spencer had taken to pushing this deal again from the moment David took the oath of office. William Smee, Regina's predecessor at the Secretary job, had been afraid of Spencer, and therefore allowed the negotiations to begin. She suspects it's the reason the man got fired in the first place. David is less tough on environmental policies than Regina herself was, but he never would've allowed the China Deal to get that far.

Thankfully, the EPA had backed Regina up, and prepared a very poignant report on the negative effects of fracking in Alaska, including proper research and scientific analysis on the environmental complications.

Congressman Spencer had introduced her to the Chinese commission created for the negotiations, even led a few of those negotiations himself, always making sure everyone knew he was a big fan of the international cooperation statement that the deal meant. Regina is sure there'd been an ulterior motive to all of his pandering, but she's decided it's best that she doesn't find out what it is. After all, her rejection of the deal should not be seen as based on anything other than the environmental concerns she's so insistently voiced during negotiations.

The report had been shown to the President and his Chief of Staff and discussed thoroughly, then attached to a formal, written decision on why the State Department was rejecting the deal on behalf of the United States.

Regina had been expecting the Congressman to voice his latent disagreement and spill some venom her way, but as Ingrid had told her, he'd been at his country estate, celebrating his granddaughter's birthday, when the news broke two days ago.

It seems he's come back from his mini-vacation with a vengeance.

"Ma'am, Congressman Albert Spencer is here," Ingrid says, heels clicking as she enters her office half an hour into her morning.

"Of course he is," Regina mutters, and takes a deep breath and asking her to show him in.

"Congressman," she greets, her tone low and tired. The man rolls his eyes, ignores her offered hand, and sits down on the chair in front of her desk, fingers interlaced as he places his hands on the shiny wooden surface.

"I have worked tirelessly to make this deal happen, and you reject it just like that? How dare you undermine my efforts?" he seethes.

"Congressman, my stance on fracking is not a secret, and unlike my predecessor, I will not let you bully me into accepting this deal. Besides, the EPA concluded in their studies that—"

"I couldn't care less what those hippies think," he interrupts, "this is a good deal, and you're throwing it away."

"No, Congressman, it is not a good deal. It is an environmental crisis waiting to happen. The research is conclusive, and the president has signed off on this, so I suggest you stop pushing it, because no matter what you do, it will not go through, not on my watch."

He leans back in his chair then, stares at her with nothing but disdain as he vows she'll regret this.

"No, Congressman, I really don't think I will," she says as he turns to leave, and the man has the gall to scoff at her before walking out of her office, leaving her to let out an incredulous laugh as she tackles whatever's next on her agenda.

Just another day at the office.

* * *

By noon, she's exhausted, and her altercation with Spencer is all but forgotten, replaced with the adrenaline and urgency of solving the new crisis at hand.

There's a mosque at risk in Cleveland, threatened by a group of extremists, and she's in the middle of case reports and eyewitness accounts, putting in calls to her contacts in the Department of Defense to see what they know, when Ursula comes in.

"Ma'am," she says somberly, "I'm afraid we're too late."

She turns on the TV in the office then, and Regina watches as clouds and clouds of smoke billow and swirl where the mosque once stood. There are reports of dozens of casualties, and journalists scattered around the scene, visible in the background of the shot now shown on the screen. Regina's heart grows heavy as she watches a well-dressed young woman prattle on what little information she has on the attack.

"Get me the Ohio State Department," she orders. "Now."

Two hours later, the suspects have been apprehended, along with a stash of C4 large enough to blow the entire Capitol building. They vow their revenge, and spit insults at her and the president while cameras follow them as they're forced into police cars.

It's a retaliation for the new policy on refugees she's just helped pass, a taste of what some racist, fascist assholes think of her deciding to allow more refugees into America. She'll have to take Ohio off the list of available places for relocation, and ask the Canadian Prime Minister if he'd be willing to take some of the families being brought over next month if they haven't neutralized this entire terrorist group by then. She won't have those poor people feeling wary and unsafe when they've just fled from warring countries.

The perpetrators' faces, full of hate and anger, stay with her for the rest of the afternoon. They'd looked... disturbed. Scary. Somehow just the image of those rage-filled eyes on one of the young men as he told the world he would come for Regina and the president next, is enough to make her shiver. Enough to make her hand tremble as she reaches for her coffee.

And then, just an hour later, the men's threats become a reality.

She's not expecting it, and for a moment, when she's informed of what's happening, Regina doesn't register the words, can't wrap her head around what they're telling her.

 _The school has no idea what happened._

 _Agent Little was shot._

 _A teacher found him bleeding in the men's room._

 _No one saw anything._

 _They destroyed all but one of the security cameras at the school._

 _All we have is a short video of a man in a mask leaving with him._

 _We don't know who he works for._

 _We don't know where he is._

It's an onslaught of information and excuses all at once, and all the while the words whispered to her by Anton when he'd barged into her office, sweaty and panting, are the only ones that stick as she grips the edge of her desk and tries to make sense of it all.

 _Ma'am, your son's been taken._

The sounds around her are all muted, slow and nonsensical, like she's trapped underwater, alone and powerless to stop the atrocities from the world above.

"Where's Roland?" she asks. She means to scream it, to bellow an order for them to bring her son back to her, but all that comes out of her mouth is a dull murmur, barely audible to those around her.

"Ma'am, we're doing everything we can to—"

"Where. Is. My. Son?" It comes out a little louder this time, her desperation growing, her breaths coming quicker as her heart finally catches up to her brain and the realization of what's happened splits her soul in two.

"Where is he?!" she finally shouts. No one gives her an answer, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Ursula moving closer, extending a hand to try and calm her as she whispers her title.

"Madam Secretary, we should—"

"I want my son!" Regina screams, what's left of her heart pounding at too fast a rhythm for her to even register what she's doing. Suddenly her coffee cup is no longer in her hand, but smashed into pieces against the wall. The light clutter on her desk is now strewn over the floor, dread and fear and desperation overpowering her senses, her blood pounding in her ears as the agents around her try to reassure her.

"Don't you dare say that!" she barks at one of them. Which one, she's not sure, all she knows is that she'd heard some lame attempt at comfort and she'd snapped. "Don't you tell me it's going to be okay when you've just let someone take my baby boy away!"

She feels her stomach shriveling in time with the remnants of her composure, and tears sting as they fall from her eyes. She's yelling suddenly, not orders or insults but full-on screaming, clutching her stomach as she cries and cries and shouts Roland's name like that will somehow bring him back to her.

Panic builds inside her, cold and overwhelming as she thinks of that mosque, of what those men had done to all the innocent people there, of the lack of remorse on their faces. These people are capable of anything, and they said they'd come for her.

They won't hesitate in killing her little boy to get to her. She knows that.

She should act, should call the CIA and the FBI and every goddamn contact she may have in DC, mobilize the entire city and start a rescue operation. She should be _efficient_ , should do _something_ to get her son back. But the fear cripples her, keeps her rooted to where she's gripping her desk, standing over it and gasping for breath in between shouts of _Roland!_ and _I want my son!_

Everyone around her seems at a loss, and only Ursula dares move forward, only she has the guts to grab her, shake her, and attempt to calm the tornado of despair inside her.

"Listen to me, Regina," she says, using her name in public for the first time in all the years they've known each other. "We're gonna find him, okay? He'll be fine, we'll get him back for you, but in order to do that, we need you. Breathe, and pull yourself together. Now."

It's a valiant effort, but all Regina can think of as she moves away from Ursula and paces around the room is her son, locked up who knows where, subjected to who knows what manner of abuse. She imagines his face, bruised and battered and covered in tears, crying out for her and realizing she's not there to save him.

She's not there, she's— she can't— he's... he needs her and she's not— she has to find him, she has to— what if they— no. No, no. They can't, he can't, he has to be okay, he's just a baby, he's—

Regina collapses near a bookshelf, too weak to hold on, her hands catching the broken pieces of china on the floor. She feels the sting of them as they puncture her skin, knows the cuts are deep and that she's bleeding all over the carpet, but her baby has been taken, and the physical pain of a few scrapes is nothing compared to the emotional torture currently overpowering her.

"Regina!" she hears Ursula yell, falling to her knees before her, trying to hold her up while also checking her wounds. Agents rush in to help her, but Regina thrashes in their hold. They lost her son, she doesn't want them anywhere near her.

A rush of footsteps from outside interrupts the urgent gaggle of voices around her, and suddenly Ursula's arms are gone, replaced with the warmth and strength of a body she knows all too well.

"Robin," she cries. He's talking to Ursula, asking her for the first aid kid. Right. Her hands.

She doesn't feel it, though, the pain from the cuts, and wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he lifts her and takes her away from the onlookers, his voice soft as he kisses her forehead and whispers _I'm here, my love, I'm here._

They're in the bathroom, doors locked as he sets her down on her feet and places the first aid kid on top of the nearest sink (she hadn't even realized he'd brought it with him from the office). Her legs almost give out again, but he holds her steady, clutches her to him as he lets out shaky breaths into her hair.

"They took him," she sobs, and he hugs her tighter, says nothing, but Regina can feel the warm wetness of his tears against her neck when he buries his face there and exhales, his body shaking even as he tries to reassure her through his touch.

"We'll get him back," he says when he finally finds his voice, pulling away to look at her as he cups her face in his hands. Regina wants to believe him. Wants it so badly, but...

"But what if—" she starts, but Robin's fervent reassurances cut her off.

"No. We're not playing that game. We are not going to even contemplate the idea of a life without him, you hear me? We'll find him," he insists. His voice is scratchy and shaky, but his gaze is steady on hers. Firm. Determined.

She closes her eyes, her face still in his hold, and cries as she hears him speak.

"We've taught him well," Robin tells her, not even pretending to hide his own fear. "He's smarter than you," he presses on, a humorless laugh escaping him as he adds, "he's tougher than me..."

"I love him so much, I just can't—" she starts, but he interrupts her again.

"We both do. And Roland knows that. He knows we're coming. But right now, we have to figure out where he is, and how to get to him. I need you, Regina, I can't do this alone."

She nods, taking a deep breath as she tries to regroup. Robin moves his arms back down to her waist, hugs her to him and breathes her in, the contact grounding them both.

"We'll bring him home," he insists, and Regina nods again, this time into his shirt, sniffling as her hand rises to clutch at the lapel of his jacket. The coppery smell of blood assaults her nostrils, and she realizes she's staining his suit. She can feel the pain now, but only a little.

"Now, please, let me look at these," he begs, prying her hands away and taking them gently in his, looking over the cuts and assessing the damage.

She cries while Robin cleans the wounds, and grabs a tiny pair of tongs from the kit to pull out the shards encrusted in her skin. Regina hisses when he dabs a bit of alcohol on the cuts, a strangled yelp of pain leaving her when he presses a little too hard.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispers urgently, punctuating each apology with a feather-light kiss before he continues, cleaning and checking over the dozen little gashes on her palms. Every shard seems to be out now, dumped into a bloody rag near the kit. There's a little tube of cream in the box, and Robin grabs it, covering the worst of the cuts with it before he wraps bandages on each hand.

They're silent throughout the whole thing, but Regina's sobs and sniffles don't stop coming. Robin is reverent in the way he touches her, tends to her, and as much as she loves him for it, the calm little bubble he's created inside this bathroom is stifling, and not helping her nerves any. Her son is out there, they need to hurry up.

When she starts tapping her heel against the tile, he picks up the pace, until finally the bandages are tightly wrapped and everything is packed back into the kit, the used materials discarded in the trash before they head outside, his hand holding gingerly onto hers.

When they enter her office, no one mentions her breakdown, her red eyes and puffy cheeks. The pieces of china from the cup she'd smashed are no longer in sight, and she's greeted by a large group of agents, all placing themselves at her disposal.

Her staff is there too, all of them ready to help. A fierce show of loyalty that would touch Regina deeply if she weren't so worried.

The security footage from the school is playing on her computer screen while her Chief of Staff stares and tries to look for clues, and Regina's entire body aches at the sight of Roland being dragged away by a man in a clear plastic mask. Her little boy struggles against his captor's hold, and there's a moment where he almost gets away, but the man grabs him and forces a rag against his nose, until he passes out and the monster is able to lift him and shove him into a black car without plates.

"Facial recognition is working on getting you an ID, but the mask makes it almost impossible," Ursula tells her, and Regina swallows, feeling a fresh wave of tears leak from her eyes as she rewinds and watches the forty-second video over and over again. Robin stands beside her, running an absent hand up and down her back as he watches with her, gasping when he sees the man handling Roland like a ragdoll.

It's his heartbroken, almost inaudible whisper of _My boy_ that spurs her into action.

"What do you need, ma'am?" Ursula cuts right to the chase when she senses her change in attitude. Robin hastily turns off the video, and then moves away to talk to the agents.

"I need you to keep this place running while I get my son back," Regina answers. She appreciates their will to help, but there's work to take care of, like the new trade deal between Togo and Senegal, and the meeting at the New Zealand embassy, and the reception for the new Chinese Foreign Minister...

"We have a lot on our plates right now, the State Department will combust if we don't keep moving, so I'm asking you, can you run it for me?"

"Ma'am, I—" Ursula starts, but Regina cuts her off, tears building in her eyes again as she insists.

"Ursula, I need to find my son. Can you hold the fort while I do that?" She wants to be strong, wants her voice to be that command voice that her Chief of Staff respects and follows orders from, but all that comes out is a choked whisper, a desperate plea for her friend to help her.

"Yes," she says at last, "I'll handle it. And ma'am?" Ursula calls as she moves away to find Robin.

"You'll find him. Everything's going to be fine."

"You really believe that?" Regina asks weakly, fear and doubt creeping back in, but Ursula shuts it down with her answer.

"In all the years I've known you, Regina, I've never seen you fail. You've got this. Whoever took Roland has no idea who they're messing with."

She parts with that, calling out for the staff to follow her, they have work to do.

Some sort of commotion alerts Regina to the arrival of Agent Swan, followed closely by a very sickly looking Agent Alan Dale, who immediately offers his apologies for not being at his post.

"Alan, this wasn't your fault," Agent Swan assures him, and Regina is grateful, so grateful for her. She has no patience to deal with people playing the blame game right now.

"You should go home," is all she tells him, "you're sick and need the rest."

"Ma'am, I don't mean to impose, but I have watched over Roland for half his life. I love that boy like my own, getting rest while he's in danger is not an option," he says firmly.

For what feels like the millionth time in the past hour, Regina has tears on her face (maybe they haven't really stopped falling, she can't be sure). She nods at him, puts a bandaged hand on his shoulder, and whispers a heartfelt _Thank you._

Alan nods back, then turns to look at Emma.

"Alright, boss, where do you want me?"

Regina leaves them to it, turning back to watch as everyone else gets busy with their respective tasks. There's a detail out in the city looking for Roland already, with the help of some FBI agents and a few handpicked DC police officers, who are helping clear traffic so that they can all move faster. There's no new information on the explosion, nothing else to go on other than the reports that are still strewn over her desk.

"Ingrid?" Regina looks for her assistant, who walks in quickly, her tablet at the ready.

"Yes, Madam Secretary."

"I need you to talk to Ohio. Get me in a room with the Cleveland bombers," she orders. "Now."

"Right away, ma'am."

"And call Agent Feuer, tell her we need her to come in."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The Cleveland bombers?" Robin asks, echoing Emma's question as they all stop to look at Regina.

"You saw them on TV, they said David and I were next, this is what they meant."

"It's dangerous—" one agent tries to protest, and then Emma chimes in.

"Madam Secretary, we should wait for the FBI to—"

"Those men took my son, Agent Swan."

"They are terrorists, ma'am. And the organization they work for could be planning another attack to set them free. Meeting with them, even while they're in custody, is dangerous right now," Emma counters.

"What would you do if you were in my position?" Regina argues back, appealing to the woman's motherly side, "What if it was Henry, Emma?"

The blonde takes a deep breath, then nods, almost imperceptibly, and grabs her phone.

"Fine, but you're not heading there alone. As soon as the President gives the all-clear, I'm coming with you."

And so it begins.

Her hands shake as she reaches for the files she'd been reading before she got the news. Reports from the bombings, character profiles for the terrorist organization that funded the attacks, and the newest data based on on-site recovery. Her eyes scan every single page, looking for anything that might help. Any detail that might jump out at her... hidden safe houses belonging to the organization, known supporters in Washington, anything that might give her a clue as to where they've taken her baby boy.

In her urgency, she's forgotten the rest of the information provided by the Secret Service, and it's only when she hears Robin asking after John that she remembers he's injured.

"How's Agent Little doing?" her husband asks Anton.

"He's got a broken arm, and was taken in for surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder, but the doctors say it's nothing life-threatening. We've got some of the guys down there, keeping an eye on the situation so they can report back."

"Thank you, Anton," Regina says before Robin can.

In five minutes, calls have been put in to the FBI, CIA, and a few influential Congressmen who tend to favor President Nolan. A recent photo of Roland has been provided to the authorities they've briefed and to the rest of the Secret Service for search purposes. It's ridiculous, they all know what Roland looks like, but Robin insists that it's protocol.

Regina has another breakdown just looking at her son's face, ends up sobbing again, held in her husband's arms as she clutches the photo she's taken out of her wallet. She wants to shout for help over the rooftops, wants to involve as many people as possible in the search so that this nightmare can end faster, but they tell her the press cannot find out yet, they need time and can't risk scaring the kidnappers into doing something drastic.

She understands, has been on the other side of this kind of situation before and knows exactly why they can't inform the public just yet, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Regina feels her desperation growing, because it's like they're doing everything and nothing all at once, like whatever they're trying to accomplish won't happen if she stays here. She has to go out and find him. Her chest hurts, and she feels like she's drowning, unable to breathe or discern one thing from another. Everything blurs together, the people around her become foggy shapes as her vision clouds.

And then Robin's arms find her, wrap around her waist as he pulls her in.

"Let's go outside for a moment," he urges, already walking her to the balcony. The fresh air helps a bit, but there's a knot in her throat that won't let her speak, only choke out little wails into his shirt as her breathing becomes faster, more labored, her hands trembling as she fidgets with her bandages.

She hasn't had a panic attack in four years. For months after Sidney had shot her, they always accompanied her nightmares, and it had been Robin who had become in tune with her symptoms and helped her through them. He'd observed her, figured out the tell-tale signs of an attack coming on, and always made sure that when they did, she was in a secluded place where she felt safe, a place where he could be by her side and calm her down with simple breathing exercises.

Despite how long it's been since he's had to do that, it would seem it's like riding a bike for him, because here he is, using those same methods to soothe her as she fights the panic attack she can feel brewing. His hand is running up and down her back, his lips peppering kisses atop her head in between whispers of _It's okay, it's okay_ and _I'm here, you're safe, just breathe._

It takes her a few minutes (or maybe an hour, she's not really sure), but finally the storm inside her passes, and she's able to ground herself in her husband's loving touch, his warmth.

"I love you," she says, because it's all she can say, all she _wants_ to say.

"I love you, too. We'll find him, alright?" he tells her.

Regina nods, and when he suggests that she go home and take a breather, she stops him, steels herself against the next wave of despair that's itching to overwhelm her.

"No. I can't just go and... no. I'm staying here."

"Regina, you're trembling, and having panic attacks, maybe it's best if you—"

"No, Robin!" she pulls back, offended, "I'm not resting until we find our son, how dare you suggest that to me?!"

"Alright, alright," he surrenders easily, and she knows then that he wasn't really expecting her to agree.

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried. You haven't had a panic attack in so long."

She sighs, closing her eyes when his forehead falls on hers and they breathe each other in.

"I know," she says, her voice quiet, neither of them moving, "and I understand, but I'll be fine, I just need to... I need to do something to find him. Honestly, seeing you so calm freaks me out."

He pulls back then, and it's like she can almost _see_ the walls around him crumbling as he admits how terrified he is.

"I've been trying to be calm for you, not because I don't feel like ripping my hair out, Regina, I... they took our boy! They took him and I... I... he's alone and afraid and suffering and I wasn't there to save him from this. I should've been there. And then I see what this is doing to you and I just... it kills me that I can't fix it."

His voice breaks while he speaks, and that in turn has Regina crying silently as she listens, has her choking on a sob as she echoes his sentiment.

"I wish I could've been there, too. To stop this from happening. But that's not going to help us right now. We just have to focus, okay? We'll get him back. You said we would. You believe that, right?"

"With every bit of my soul," he rasps.

"Good," Regina whispers. "Then let's go get our son back."

"Madam Secretary?" a voice calls, muted by the glass doors closed behind them. Regina turns around to find Ingrid there, gesturing for her to come inside.

Mal is waiting for them there when they do.

The hug her friend wraps her in is tight and warm, murmured reassurances tumbling out of her and settling Regina's troubled heart. Mal has always had that quality. Regina calls it her superpower. She doesn't know if it's the timbre of her voice, or the connection they share through their troubled pasts, but somehow Mal always manages to breathe calm into her. Regina relaxes in her embrace, holds on tight and thanks her for coming.

When they part, Mal greets Robin, who acknowledges her stiffly and then calls back to Ingrid, asking her for an update on the Cleveland situation.

"The suspects have been processed and are being held at a local precinct, awaiting the Secretary's arrival. The FBI has already sent five agents to escort you to Cleveland, along with the Secret Service, we're just waiting for the Military Office to get Air Force Two ready to go—"

"That won't be necessary," a voice announces, and they turn to find David there, with at least a dozen Secret Service Agents on his heels.

Various murmurs of _Good afternoon, Mr. President_ are heard throughout the office, and David waves them all off.

"Please, there's no time for formalities," he tells them, then looks at Regina. "I've got Air Force One ready to leave for Cleveland as soon as you get to the hangar. The car is outside, and half my detail will be going with you."

She sobs in relief, and thanks him profusely before she grabs Robin's hand and they walk straight out the door, with their detail, plus Ingrid, Mal and Emma following close behind.

* * *

The flight is short, less than an hour and a half, but it's long enough for fear to settle in her heart once again. The adrenaline from earlier has worn off, leaving her tired and worried all over again. She holds Robin's hand tighter where they sit, looking out the window and trying her hardest to keep her breathing slow and measured.

They're flying over a long stretch of bare land when Emma approaches them.

"Madam Secretary, Mr. Locksley, CIA just found the locations of the safe houses where the rest of this terrorist organization is currently squatting, they're sending in some special agents to dismantle them. If they've got Roland in one of them, we'll know within the hour."

With that, Regina throws her breathing exercises out the window.

She unbuckles and stands, pacing the length of the aisle with her bandaged hand over her mouth, her nerves mounting and mounting. Robin stands with her, tries to hold her and comfort her, but she just feels trapped, coddled, and guilty that he even has to take care of her like this. So instead of letting him help, she shakes her head, pushes him away and she resumes her pacing.

Emma grabs his attention, and Regina can hear them discussing the locations of the safe houses. There are two of them near DC, just a few miles out of the city. Twenty minutes. That's all it would've taken for them to drive out of DC and to that hideout with her son. Twenty minutes to take him away from her.

How did she let this happen? How?!

"It's not your fault," Mal says, suddenly standing in front of her, too close that Regina can't stop from crashing into her. Mal doesn't seem to mind, though, only embraces her fiercely and repeats her words. Regina tries to pull away, to stop her heart from cracking open, but her friend won't let go, only clutches her tighter and says again, "It's not your fault."

The dam breaks, and Regina is hugging her back, shaking her head and soaking her shirt with her tears. Mal's hand finds her hair, caressing the dark tresses and whispering the same four words over and over again.

"My baby, they took my baby," Regina cries, and Mal gently shushes her, promises they'll find him.

Robin is suddenly there, taking her out of Mal's embrace and into his. The sudden movement is jarring, and Regina pulls back and recoils from him as she tries to make sense of the rage in his eyes.

"I'm only trying to help," Mal interjects, her voice surprisingly worried.

"I can comfort my own wife, thank you," Robin's voice is cold, his arms still trying to hold on to Regina, even as she extricates herself from his grasp and stares at him in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?" she seethes, and he has the gall to look offended. He opens his mouth to speak, and she puts up a hand to stop him. "Don't!" she barks, then walks away, locking herself up in the empty press cabin, her back sliding against the door as she sinks to the floor and cries.

There's a hesitant knock behind her, and Emma's muted voice asks to please let her in.

Regina doesn't answer, but moves from the door and removes the lock, grabbing a window seat and staring out into the vastness of the land as the blonde walks in and sits beside her.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but that's a dumb question considering..." she starts, and Regina sniffs, wipes tears from her cheeks, and says nothing.

"Look, he's bullheaded as they come, I get that. And his reaction was stupid."

"But?" Regina asks, the word tasting like ashes on her tongue as she crosses her arms over her chest and turns to look at Emma.

"But he's as broken up about this as you are. Maybe a marital spat isn't really the best course of action right now."

"He started this, not me," is all Regina can reply, feeling every bit like a petulant child.

"He couldn't stop those men from taking your kid, and he's miserable over it. The one thing he _can_ do right now is be there for you, and you pushed him away and sought comfort in somebody else. What did you think he was gonna do? Throw you a party?"

Emma's tone is defensive, clipped. She and Robin have become like brother and sister over the years, and they share a fierce sense of mutual loyalty, of duty to one another. They understand each other, and Emma will take his side against anyone, even his own wife.

"Imagine if he came to me instead of you when he found out Roland had been kidnapped. If he had pushed your hug away for one of mine. How would you have felt?"

"Awful," Regina admits. She and Emma Swan are not friends. Not really. They haven't spent enough time together for that. But there's respect between them, and enough trust for them to have these kinds of talks every once in a while. Regina is thankful for the change in perspective.

"Look, he's out there freaking out because he hurt you, and we're gonna land soon. Please just let him come in and apologize for acting like a neanderthal. You're stronger together. Always have been."

With that, and at Regina's nod, she steps out of the room, leaving the door open behind her, and not two minutes later Robin is there, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his, kissing them over the gauzy fabric of her bandages before he rests his head on her lap. Regina keeps her eyes on the window, staring off into space, too afraid she'll burst into tears again if she looks down at him.

"I'm sorry. What I said back there was..." Robin murmurs, "I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted, honestly."

"You wanted to protect me. You always want to protect me," she says, her fingers playing with his hair as she continues to stare at the sky outside. "It's what you do," she continues. "You protect me and Roland. And I love you for it."

His voice is hoarse when he speaks, admitting with great embarrassment, "Clearly I failed on both counts."

That gives her pause, Emma's words echoing in her head as she gently pushes him off her lap and sinks down on the floor beside him.

"You did not fail," she assures him. "Babe, we're both hurting. And I know, I know you're trying to be strong for me, and that I've been all over the place today, but... he's our baby."

She breaks down then, tears streaming down her face. Robin stays there, caressing her hands with his own, waiting.

"Is Mal okay?" she asks when she finds her words again.

He nods, looking down at their joint hands on her lap as he tells her he's already apologized to their friend.

"You're allowed to be a mess, too, Robin, I don't need you to be strong all the time. And she was only being a friend, you know that."

Robin sighs and nods again, bringing his forehead to hers and softly rubbing her nose with his own.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just... I need you, too, you know."

"I do. And I'm sorry, too," she admits. "But we don't know what's gonna happen once we get to Cleveland, and I don't want you to feel like you have to hold me together through this when you're already falling apart at the seams."

"So what do we do?"

"We face it together, head-on. All we need is each other. We find strength in that, not in you trying to keep us both afloat when you're hurting. Okay?"

He kisses her, a fervent press of his lips on hers. It's a salty, wet kiss, made so by the tears they both can't seem to keep at bay. And this is better, this is what she needs. It's not fair for Robin to feel like he has to hide his pain from her. They're in this together.

The captain's voice comes on the speakers, announcing that their descent is about to start, and Regina knows they should head back to the main cabin, to await landing with the rest of their group, but she's reluctant to leave the calm quiet of the room they're in, and instead cuddles closer into Robin, crying silently as he does the same, holding her tight while they both bare each other's fears through quiet sobs.

"I want him back, Robin," she says into the silence. "I want him in my arms."

"So do I, my love," he answers. "So do I."

* * *

The precinct in which the bombers are being held is cold and gloomy. They are welcomed by the highest ranking officers, who inform them that a room has been prepared for them. It's one of those rooms you see in movies, with annoying, white neon lights and a two-way mirror from which Emma, Mal, Alan and the others can watch. There's a single table in the middle, with two empty chairs on either side.

The men are brought in first, and Regina watches from the outside as they are wrangled and handcuffed to their side of the table.

Robin squeezes her hand, not too much, just enough to show his support without affecting her wounds, and together, they walk inside and sit. The man whose rage had scared her just this morning now looks like no more than an insignificant parasite, a bug that she will squash if she has to, to get her son back.

It surprises her, how little she fears them now, after spending most of the day dreading their actions, terrified of what their people will do to Roland. Ursula was right, these men have no idea who they're messing with.

"Where is my son?" she asks, her voice steady, menacing.

"How the hell would I know, sweetheart?" the first one replies. She'd read their files before entering, and knows that he is Henry Jekyll, thirty-two years old, a chemist, released from a mental hospital in 2010, after spending many years there, being treated for various issues. His companion, Edward Hyde, is older, and decidedly less confrontational. He says nothing, only stares at her with something akin to curiosity.

"You said I was next, and then my son was kidnapped, where is he? And don't treat me like a fool. You're looking at life in prison, and I can make your time there a lot more complicated than it needs to be. So either tell me where my son is, or face the consequences."

Jekyll stares daggers at her, huffs as he takes her in and says nothing. Hyde is eerily quiet, locking eyes with Robin and smiling smugly before he speaks.

"Your son was taken?" he asks, slow-paced and amused. "Well, that's quite the news, isn't it?"

"You think this is _funny_?" Robin seethes. "Tell us where he is!"

"If I knew, don't you think I would've used that to my advantage by now?" Hyde drawls in reply. He's casual about it, while Jekyll laughs and spews insults at her, muttering things like how he hopes Roland ends up dead in a ditch, how that would be a fitting punishment for sacrificing the integrity of their great nation. They are words that would incense her, if she wasn't so enraptured by Hyde's easy assertion.

"It wasn't you?" She gasps, her question directed at Hyde exclusively. But it is Jekyll who answers.

"Of course it wasn't us," he laughs. "Don't get me wrong, it's a great idea, and whoever did it has my admiration, but darling, if it had been our organization who grabbed your filthy little half-breed, you would be collecting him in pieces at that mosque, not here asking for his whereabouts."

Robin launches at him, and Jekyll actually screams in fear, a high-pitched squeal that has the officers barging in to stop the altercation before it's truly begun. It takes four Secret Service agents and Emma's muttered chiding to hold him back, and Regina just sits there. In shock.

They don't have him.

No. That has to be a lie, they probably want to play with her, they...

 _If I knew, don't you think I would've used that to my advantage by now?_

Edward Hyde's voice plays on a loop in her head, over and over again _, e_ ach turn letting the knowledge sink in that much deeper.

Robin is suddenly not in the room, escorted outside by the officers while Regina remains in her seat, watching the prisoners being taken away and back to their cells.

"I hope he's suffering, wherever he is!" are Jekyll's final words before the door shuts behind him, and Regina cannot breathe.

Staggering, she walks out of the interrogation room, looking around frantically for her husband.

"Detective's office, down the hall and on your left," comes Emma's voice from behind her, and Regina turns to thank her, finds her looking worried as she adds, "he looked pretty shaken, said he needed a moment."

Regina runs down the hall, kicking her shoes off in the process and leaving them there like some warped version of Cinderella, her feet faster now that heels are no longer a concern.

She finds him on the floor of the detective's office, breathing fast and hard as he fights through his pain, his face buried in his hands as his entire body shakes.

"Robin," she sobs, falling to her knees beside him and pulling him into her arms.

It breaks her to see him like this, and all she can do is hold him, run her fingers through his hair as he cries it out. It's what he's been doing for her all day, and so she takes a page out of his book, lands kisses on whatever part of him she can reach and tells him that it's alright, that she's here.

Robin only cries harder, his tears hot on her chest where he's nestled his head. He's got one arm looped around her waist, holding her so tight, it's as if he thinks she'll float away if he doesn't. Regina only breathes, takes in the fresh pine scent of him as she lets herself cry, too.

It's how Emma and Mal find them when they appear at the open office door, hesitant to disturb them, but trying to keep things running as efficiently as possible. It's part of why Regina admires them both so much.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I've just spoken to the CIA. They confirmed there was no evidence of Roland ever being at the safe houses. Those men were telling the truth, they don't have him," Mal tells them, dangling Regina's heels from her hand and dropping them softly by the door.

"Engines are on, we'll head back to DC and figure out our next move from there," Emma reports.

It's enough to get them moving, and Regina tries not to think of what could happen, of all the time the real kidnappers have had to get away while they were so focused on the terrorists.

She's back in her office in less than two hours, and the FBI is poring over a list of suspects that may have some kind of ill wish toward Regina. Most of them are angry leaders of foreign nations, none of which would take part in something like this and risk retaliation from the United States.

"What if..." Regina swallows, not ready to even voice it, but she has to, she has to know, "Do you think there's a chance he could be..."

She doesn't finish the sentence, can't bring herself to utter the word _dead,_ but everyone catches her meaning. Robin's hold tightens a little, but he says nothing.

It's Alan who answers.

"All due respect, ma'am, but if he was dead, we would've found a body by now."

His bluntness sends a shiver down her spine, and he cringes a bit before he continues. "Whoever is behind this doesn't seem to want anything in exchange for your son, or we would've heard from them already. What they want is to instill fear, to make you suffer. Based on that, if they had killed him they would've tossed him somewhere public, somewhere that would make headlines. If they haven't done that, it means he's alive."

His analysis gives her a little relief, but then there's the other million questions in her head, like is he being tortured? Will these people release him at some point or are they just biding their time to kill him at precisely the right opportunity? If they don't want anything in exchange, how are they supposed to get him back?

And then a woman comes in and interrupts her slow descent into madness. She's Asian, attractive, and impeccably dressed in a designer suit, her hair arranged in long brown waves, makeup flawless and fresh despite the late hour.

"Madam Secretary," she says, before Ursula or Ingrid can even announce her. "I'm Mulan Fa, I'm the new Chinese Foreign Minister, we weren't supposed to be introduced until the reception, but I had to come when I found out what was happening."

"How did you know what was happening? The press has not been informed yet," Ursula fires back, a little miffed at the leak. Regina says nothing. She's not doing this today. She has no patience for this. All she wants is to keep the warm weight of her husband's arm around her shoulder just as it is now, her own looped over his stomach, as they both work through their grief and try to find a plausible alternative that will lead them to Roland.

"That, Ms. Triton, is precisely why I'm here."

That catches Regina's attention, and she and Robin both sit up from their perch on the sofa, staring at the woman before them.

"Ma'am, I have reason to believe your son's kidnapping is a direct result of our fracking deal going south."

"What?" Regina asks, taken aback by the notion. China hadn't been too pleased when she'd rejected the deal, but kidnapping her son?

"First, let me state that my government has no part in this, I want that to be clear before we move forward."

"What do you know, Ms. Fa? And how do you know it?" Ursula claps back, but the woman's eyes remain on Regina.

"We have a few... alternative information channels. A bit of a pipeline, if you will. There was no leak from your staff, that's not where I heard about what happened to your son. It's why I was concerned in the first place."

"Honey, you're cute, but all you're doing is confusing everyone even more, so you either talk, or leave, but stop playing around," Mal fires, arms crossed over her chest as she stands beside Regina and Robin.

The Chinese Foreign Minister sighs, then brandishes a manila envelope in her hand Regina hadn't even noticed she was holding.

"We received word of strange, encrypted messages being exchanged after the deal was shut down. We've been monitoring everyone involved in the negotiations in order to keep a better eye on the legality of it all, as we know how sensitive of an issue fracking is. Our intelligence agencies picked up some messages in one of our monitored email accounts regarding your rejection of the deal, and of a possible revenge plan against you."

Regina's eyes widen at that, wracking her brain for anyone who would want to hurt her this badly over that deal, but the only person she can think of is...

No.

No, that can't be right.

But it is, as the young diplomat in front of her confirms two seconds later.

"Secretary Mills," she finally says, "we believe Congressman Spencer is behind your son's kidnapping."

* * *

Regina has never hated before.

Not her mother, not President Blanchard and the many other men like him, not even Sidney. She'd resented them, sure, despised them, wanted them gone from her life, but she never _hated_ them.

She hates Albert Spencer.

His office can't locate him, neither can his family, and there are reports that he escaped his detail by switching cars in the parking lot before he left work. Emma has been busy in Cleveland, and the subordinate she'd left in charge didn't have a high enough security clearance to be briefed on Roland's kidnapping, or else the connection might've been made sooner.

Spencer's disappearing act is confirmation enough, but the emails that Mulan Fa shows her, of him describing to an unknown third party (presumably the people who had taken Roland from his school) how the best way to get to Regina was through her family, all but cement his intentions.

The Chinese Foreign Minister puts all her research and information at Regina's disposal, and leaves the office with murmured well wishes and words of hope for Regina and Robin.

They thank her, and Regina can almost appreciate the woman's kind message, but right now she is blinded by hate.

That wretch of a man has kidnapped her son, put him through who knows what manner of suffering, all to teach her a lesson.

She is livid.

"What now, Emma?" she asks, but it's Alan who takes over.

"I was assigned to the White House a few months after you took office," he starts, looking directly at Regina. "But before that, I was part of Spencer's family detail. He has a luxury cabin in Wintergreen, about two hours away from the city. It's registered to his wife, under her maiden name, so it doesn't show up in the books right away, but it's the only property he has that's secluded enough to..."

"To stash and murder my son," Robin finishes for him, his tone cold and angry.

"Yes. But like I said, if he'd wanted to kill Roland—"

"He would've done it by now, I know," Regina interrupts, exasperated. "Can you lead us to this cabin?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alan answers. "It's right smack in the middle of nowhere. No one will find it if they don't think to look for it. But I can get you there, no problem."

"We should make sure he's there before we head out. If we make another mistake it'll cost us time we don't have," Mal tells them then, her tone firm and authoritative, but she's placing a reassuring hand on Robin's arm as she speaks, a show of comfort that, while not directed at Regina, somehow helps her breathe a little easier.

"Way ahead of you, sister," a gruff voice chimes in, and they turn to find agent Leroy Grump by the door, brandishing his phone. Regina hasn't seen him since David's inauguration, and is so shocked to see him there it actually takes her a moment to react.

"How did you—" she starts to ask, but the man interrupts her.

"Your new Chinese Foreign Minister. Her father and I go way back. He was an ally of our forces before he passed, helped with some of our missions overseas. She called me when she found out about Spencer, wanted me to help if I could."

Regina is taken aback by the onslaught of information, but nods her head, taking a second to process before she tells him, "Thank you, Agent Grump."

"We're gonna get him, ma'am, don't worry," he replies, throwing his phone to Emma as he fills them in. "Traffic surveillance footage near Wintergreen shows a black sedan with no plates entering the area about an hour ago."

"Why is it always a black sedan?" Mal complains in a bored tone, rolling her eyes as they begin to grab their things.

"Hey, Leroy? Ms. Fa wasn't clear on Spencer's hidden motives," Emma asks, "got any idea why he did this, other than revenge for the China Deal being cut?"

"Oh no, believe me, this is revenge, plain and simple. The guy's not smart enough for 'hidden motives', Agent Swan, he's really just an asshole," Grump shrugs, looking to Regina and Robin before he speaks again. "You did a number on him by shutting down that deal. He's gonna miss out on a lot of money."

"What do you mean?" Robin asks.

"Spencer has a drilling company. Under other names, of course. The rat's pretty good at covering his tracks. Anyway, China was promising him exclusive rights to drill in Alaska if he made this deal happen. The Chinese government would get their chunk of the profits through the deal and Spencer would be making bank by exploiting the North Slope."

"How much are we talking about?" Mal asks then.

"Eight, maybe ten billion? Mulan said he was angrier than her bosses back in China when he found out the contract wasn't being signed."

Emma lets out a low whistle just as Robin huffs. Regina can see his anger pouring out of him.

"You mean to tell me that that petulant wanker took my ten-year-old because he didn't get what he wanted?"

"Yeah, he's a son of a bitch, alright," Grump replies.

"I could kill him," Robin seethes, and Regina hurries to soothe him. Her hand runs down his arm and over his, grasping his fingers and squeezing tight as she presses into him, her head buried in his neck, both trying —and failing— to calm their erratic breathing.

"Yeah, listen, I got a SWAT team waiting for us outside," Grump tells them. "Shall we?"

Robin nods, wrapping one arm around Regina as he says, "It's about time we end this."

"Couldn't agree more," comes Regina's answer.

* * *

"Okay, time to go! Faster, faster, people, come on, let's go, let's go! We have a kid to save," Alan urges everyone into action, and before she knows it she's being escorted into a car, with Anton on the driver's seat and Alan beside him, setting up the GPS.

The two-hour ride is quiet, interrupted only by the beeping of her phone whenever Emma or Mal send her updates from the car riding just behind them. The dividing screen between front and back seat is up, and Regina and Robin are blessedly alone in a little cocoon of temporary privacy.

They hold on to each other, and their voices shakingly reassure one another that things will be alright. She's tucked into him, her head resting in the crook of his neck, his lips kissing her hair as the arm he has around her shoulders loops tighter, fingers stroking absently over her arm.

"It's almost over," he says out loud, the graze of his mouth over her forehead tickling slightly.

"This is my fault. I jumped the gun," Regina admits through her tears, "I was so sure they had him and we wasted all this time... I'm so sorry, Robin. If there was one thing in my life that I could do over—"

"My darling, stop," he urges her, "I don't blame you for that, for any of this. You judged based on the limited evidence you had, and you chose the most logical option. We all did. Let's not forget every one of us assumed it was that terrorist group, this was not just you."

He must notice that his words are not having much of an effect on her, because then he's kissing her, and Regina surrenders to the familiar taste, to the softness of his lips and the pure anguish in his kiss. He clings to her, kisses wildly, his tongue fast and unrelenting in a desperate attempt to reassure her, ground her. Regina kisses back with the same fervent urgency, salty tears (hers, or his, or both, she doesn't know) adding to the flavor of him.

When they pull away, he finds her gaze with his own, his tone strong and full of conviction as he insists, "Our son will be back in your arms tonight, I promise you that."

Regina spends the rest of the ride in silence, exhausted but unable to sleep, her mind conjuring all sorts of horrible scenarios as they speed through city traffic thanks to the policemen clearing a path for them.

She hears reporters on the radio speculating on what could be causing all the commotion at the State Department tonight, and a few of the guesses come close, but thankfully they don't delve too deep into it. For the first time today, Regina is glad they chose to keep the press out of this. Thanks to the silence in the media, Spencer has no idea they're onto him, and that element of surprise might just be what they need to get Roland back.

It's nearing 4AM when they get there, and once they arrive, the SWAT team takes over. Regina and Robin are held back, and told there's not much they can do except wait.

It drives her crazy.

They park in a wooded area near the cabin, where tall, full trees hide the cars from view. An ambulance and the SWAT van arrive just behind the car bringing Mal, Agent Grump and Agent Swan, paramedics, officers and Secret Service Agents all ready to go.

The orders are spoken in hushed tones, the only thing louder than a whisper is the guns as they are assembled and loaded. The ambulance lights are off, and all cars except the van shut down their engines. Grump helps Alan and Mal get into the standard SWAT gear to join the mission, and in seconds, Regina is watching the people brought to save her son's life head off into the night.

The thicket of trees around them is dense enough to hide the clearing they're in, and Grump and the remaining officers set up a mini home base in no time. The camera the SWAT team leader wearing on his helmet has a live feed that's connected to the monitors now glowing in the open van, and Regina and Robin watch the giant cabin slowly loom into view as the men get closer.

It's an elegant structure, spacious and fancy, with two floors and large windows. There's an open garage, where the black sedan rests, its tinted windows reflecting the only light on in the entire house, the one on the top floor, where three shadows walk back and forth as they gesture wildly.

"Rogue One, we have three adult men in the main bedroom, two of them armed. Over," the leader's voice comes on the radio, and Agent Grump acknowledges the information, answering with a "Copy, Rogue Two. Approach at will. Over."

She's biting her nails now, tapping her foot on the dirt and asking, "Is my son there?" even though she knows they can't answer that yet.

"Suspects seem to be arguing," the officer says then, and Grump hums before speaking into the radio again.

"Copy that, Rogue Two. Any chance we can get sound going around the house?"

"Patching through now," the officer replies.

The sound is scratchy, voices a bit interrupted by static for a moment before they clear, and Regina feels Robin's hand grip her own when they hear Spencer on the speaker.

"...will not be paying you more money, Horace, and that's that!" he bellows, and one of the shadows on the screen —the stout-looking one—, starts moving frantically around the room as they hear the man named Horace yell back at Spencer.

"Our price wen' up the momen' we knew it was the Secretary's son you 'ad us take from tha' school, Albert. Now, pay up!"

"How dare you demand—" Spencer starts, but his speech is cut by a third voice. Another man, and the tallest of the shadows, if his wild gesticulations are anything to go by.

"We dare, oh, _Congressman,_ because we have a target on our backs now, and that was not part of the negotiation."

"They don't know it was you, Jasper. They don't even know it was me!" Spencer laughs.

"And 'ow long do ye think it's gonna take 'er to figure ou' you took her precious brat?!" Horace spits back.

"I'm the one who grabbed him," Jasper adds, "it's me they'll be looking for, and I swear, Spencer, if they catch me, I'm taking you down with me."

"Unless you pay the new price," Horace adds, and Regina can hear Spencer's exasperated huffs as he begrudgingly agrees with a _Fine, double it is._

"Rogue One, we are ready to engage, I repeat, we are ready to—" the officer says, but is cut off by a loud cough sounding on the speakers. Alan.

"Wait, did you hear that?" Spencer says, and all three shadows stop moving on the screen. "Something's out there."

"Fuck, sorry," he chokes out on the audio feed as he tries to breathe, and Robin blows a puff of air up into the night in frustration, one hand on his pocket and the other over his face.

"Oh, don't try to play that game with me, Albert, I know you too well," one of the men —Jasper, Regina recalls— spits back at Spencer.

"Who are these men?" Regina whispers, "How did Spencer find them?"

"Horace and Jasper are unusual names, it was easy to find them in the registry," Grump says as he passes her his phone, the browser app open to show the mugshots of the two men they now know are helping Spencer. "They're bodyguards, but they have a record for all sorts of non-conventional jobs. Have been busted once or twice for using illegal methods to obtain merchandise for the woman they work for."

"Their boss isn't Spencer?" Robin asks before Regina can.

"Nah, they work for Ella Feinberg, Spencer's mistress. She's a former fashion mogul, her brand was shut down a few years ago. Some scandal about torturing animals for their fur or something like that. She's been with Spencer ever since. Mooching off his money, most likely. She's from your homeland, you've probably heard of her," Grump digs, and how he can gossip like this when her son's life hangs on the balance, Regina does not understand.

She says nothing, though, her eyes glued to the screen as the SWAT team finally continue on their way, Spencer and the other men now back to arguing over money.

"Yes, I remember reading about it," Robin bites back. "Why would _she_ want any part in this?"

"She's not in the country, probably doesn't even know Spencer is using her hired bullies to do the dirty job for him."

"Rogue One, we're approaching target. Over," comes the officer's voice again, and Regina can almost feel her heart jump in her throat.

"Copy that, Rogue Two, any sign of Sparrow?"

"Not yet, we'll search the house once we've neutralized the threat."

"Agent Dale, how's the cough?" asks Grump.

"Subsided for now. Sorry again, chief," Alan answers.

"It's fine, kid. Just don't do it again."

There's muffled chat on the radio then, and then the feed shows Mal quietly approaching the door of the house. Spencer and the other men stop talking for a moment.

"Gentlemen, we've got company," Spencer informs them, and Regina then hears something that chills her to the bone. The cocking of a gun.

"Mal, get out of there now," she blabs into the microphone, before Agent Grump can even realize she's doing it.

"Madam Secretary, we've got thi—" he starts, attempting to take the mic back, but Regina panics.

"Mal he's got a gun and he's coming for you, get out!" she urges.

"I can hear him, Regina, it's okay," Mal whispers back. "Emma's covering me and Alan has a rifle pointed at the door, I'll be fine."

Robin runs a reassuring hand up and down Regina's arm, then does something she's not expecting at all.

"Be careful, Mal," he says into the mic, and Regina squeezes his hand over her arm, turning back to kiss him on the cheek before her eyes jump back to the screen.

"The Dragon is approaching the front door with Swan and Dale, rest of the team is covering the other exi— wait. Rogue One, we have movement at the back door. Over."

"Copy that, Rogue Two, we have the EMTs standing by," is Grump's reply.

Everything happens incredibly fast.

One of the henchmen, Jasper by the looks of it, opens the back door to find three agents there, waiting for him. They catch him before he can do anything, but in the scuffle, Horace and Spencer walk out the front door and straight into Mal. Shots are fired, and chaos ensues.

The live feed doesn't show much, just blurry images paired with the hurried footsteps, yelling and panting they can hear over the speaker, and suddenly a shot is fired that kills the camera.

They still have sound, so they know the officer is alive when he yells out that the bullet hit the camera and blew his helmet off, but they hear nothing else after that. It's all yelling and panting and punching, pine needles crunching under boots and branches being knocked every which way.

"Is that him?!" someone yells.

"Is that who?! Roland?! Did they find him?!" Robin asks desperately, and Agent Grump shushes him, playing around with the controls on the speaker to try and clear the sound.

"Do we have eyes on him, Rogue Three— wait!"

More gunshots, a lot of them, and every passing second has Regina more and more on edge.

"He's down. GSW to the chest. No pulse."

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

It can't be Roland. It just can't be.

Her baby boy is _not_ dead.

There's more yelling, more mixed up reports, but all she can hear is _No pulse_ playing on a loop in her head, mixed with the distant echo of her son's laughter, a traitorous figment of her imagination that adds to her despair.

Things move in slow motion for a moment, as she tries to make sense of what's happening. But when she turns to Robin, and sees the look of fear on his face, it all clicks.

Regina screams.

There's a metallic screech on the line, some static, and then silence.

She takes off into the trees without a second thought, Robin following instantly, crying out a desperate _Regina, wait!_ that she chooses not to heed.

He's just behind her, though, she can hear him, and then her heel digs into a patch of mud, and she lands face-first on the floor, her head knocking against a pine trunk with a nasty smack.

There's blood on her head, warm and wet as it trickles down the side of her face. Her hands hurt more than they have all day, a consequence of her trying to break the fall with her already wounded palms, and she cries as she scrambles, trying to stand and wincing at the pain in her left knee.

And then Robin is there, holding her by the waist as he pulls her up, until she's on her feet in front of him, his hands hovering over her face as he takes in the damage.

It's a testament to how well he knows her that he doesn't even ask if she's okay, doesn't even suggest she go back to the van, because he knows nothing is going to keep her from reaching that cabin. So instead, Robin only asks, "Can you walk?"

Regina nods immediately, and he grabs her hand quickly. He doesn't comment on the hiss of pain she lets out, when he squeezes just a little too tight and her cuts protest. Doesn't mention the state of her bandages, or the fresh bits of blood staining the fabric. All he does is pull her along as they weave through trees, the cold wind whipping against their faces.

When they get to the house, it's all over.

The SWAT team has Spencer face-down on the dirt floor, one officer straddling his legs as he puts the flex cuffs on him. The man they had identified as Horace through the live feed now lies dead near the sedan, with Jasper already being shoved around by Emma as she escorts him through the trees and to the van, and the unnamed officer who had overseen the operation is now calling for the EMTs on his radio, letting Agent Grump know they've got the culprits.

There's one thing that's wrong with all of this, though.

Her son is nowhere to be seen.

Relief and dread both swirl up a storm in her chest, her lungs finally taking in air when she realizes that the death the officers were talking about was Horace's, not her son's.

"Where is he? Where's Roland?" Regina asks the officer urgently.

"We're about to question Congressman Spencer on the whereabo—" Regina doesn't wait to hear the rest, runs to Spencer's struggling form and stands in front of him as the officers hoist him up and stand him before her.

"Where is my son?" she seethes.

"I told you you would regret screwing me over with the China Deal," he spits. "I was about to leave, you know. One more hour and I would've delivered that brat of yours to a terrorist group, let them radicalize him, enslave him, whatever they wanted. And you would not have been able to stop it."

"Where. Is my son?" Regina asks again, not allowing herself to contemplate what would've happened if she had arrived an hour too late.

"Why should I tell you? If I can't have my revenge the way I wanted it, then maybe letting that little mongrel rot where he is will be my consolation pri—"

The punch Robin delivers to the man's face draws blood. A lot of it. And two officers have to hold him back before he moves to deliver another.

"Where is he?!" Robin barks, and Spencer groans at the pain, spits blood onto the floor as he sniffs and tries to breathe.

"Tell me where he is or I will rip you apart until I find him!" Regina shouts, and Robin frees himself from the men holding him and lands another punch to the congressman's stomach. Spencer says nothing, but his pain and his fear betray him. One moment he's looking at them and the next he's throwing a quick glance at something behind her.

Regina follows his gaze, and sees Horace's dead body near the car... the car.

Robin, it seems, has also made the connection, because he's running with her, and two officers are just behind them, yelling at them to stop, to wait for them to check the vehicle first.

"It could have a bomb!" Mal yells, and that stops them in their tracks.

"We found traces kerosene in the basement," she says as she comes out of the house. "It might be from the heat lamps or from something else. Just let the team check the car first, okay? They know what they're doing," she says when she reaches them.

It's the most excruciating four minutes of her life.

After a thorough checkup of the underside and under the hood, they give them the OK to approach.

When the officers pop the trunk open, Regina's breath leaves her, and her body almost collapses into Robin's.

Roland is there, curled up in a ball, trembling and gasping, pale-faced and sweaty.

"Oh, my god, Roland!" she sobs, launching forward and taking him into her arms.

Her son says nothing, but his arms wrap around her neck as he cries. Robin hugs them both, his lips kissing the top of Regina's head and then Roland's in turn, uttering reassurances in a broken whisper.

 _It's okay, my boy, you're safe now._

 _We're here._

 _Nothing is going to happen to you._

 _We missed you._

 _We love you so much._

The EMTs are suddenly there, shoving everyone out of the way as they take Roland from her arms and place him on a stretcher, checking him for injuries and moving the stretcher out of the garage when they find none.

"Where— where are you taking him?" Regina asks stupidly, and the EMT that stays behind tells her they're just moving him to the ambulance so they can tend to him better.

But her little boy is crying, his arms reaching back toward her, and Regina's heart breaks all over again.

She and Robin take off, running behind the stretcher as they follow the EMTs back to the ambulance.

"It's okay, honey, I'm here, mommy's here," she keeps repeating, crying as she watches him scream and struggle against the EMTs. "It's alright, Roland, they're just going to make sure you're okay, I'm right here with you, baby."

She and Robin jump into the ambulance, both of them holding on to Roland's clammy hand and calming him down enough for the EMTs to finish checking him over.

"Looks like he was trapped in there for a few hours. He's a bit dehydrated, and his body temperature is a little low, but otherwise, there's no damage," the male nurse aboard the ambulance informs them, preparing a needle as he speaks.

"We should get some saline into his system. Think you can handle it, little man?" an EMT says, nodding towards the needle. Roland is still quiet, still crying silently where he lies, but he looks at Robin and Regina with wide eyes, panicking at the needle.

"It's only a pinch, sweetheart. It'll make you feel so better after, I promise," she tells him, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. But it's too shaky for that, and she's still crying, the fear from the terrible events from before finally catching up with her.

"He's a brave boy, he can do it. Right, Roland?" Robin says then, and she watches her little boy shed yet more tears as he nods his head, squeezing Regina's hand as tight as he can (his grip is too weak even then, too weak) while the needle goes into his arm. It's blessedly quick, and once the IV is set up, Roland starts to doze off, the adrenaline of the moment draining out of him.

"Poor guy. He'll sleep for a while, you might as well do the same," the EMT says, before heading to his seat and sighing as he closes his eyes for a moment.

Regina cannot sleep.

She's exhausted, can feel every bone in her body protesting her every move, but all she can do is stare at her son, moving his hair out of his face and leaning down to press a kiss on the thick curls she missed so much.

He smells of cigarette smoke and dirt, no longer the sweet hints of berry shampoo she'd been so thankful for just this morning. Somehow _that_ is what breaks her, what has her bursting into tears as she buries her face in Robin's chest and cries and cries and cries.

Robin cries with her, holds her tight and sobs even as he tries to remind her that it's over, that Roland is safe now.

The words are empty in the wake of such a day, but she appreciates his attempt enough to pull back and kiss him, a lingering peck before she hugs him again, crying all the while.

She spends the entire ride back to DC in tears, sniffling and watching Roland sleep while the EMT takes care of her hands and the wound on her head. She may have a concussion, he tells her, after chiding her for not alerting him to her injuries earlier. He also tells her she should get properly checked out at the hospital.

"I'm fine, just tell me Roland's gonna be okay," she insists.

"Like I said, he's dehydrated, and might need to stay overnight at the hospital, but he'll be fine, Madam Secretary. He's a champ."

"We should still get you properly checked out when we get there," Robin ventures, echoing the EMT's recommendation. Regina sighs, but nods when she sees the look of worry on her husband's face.

She refuses to let go of Roland when they get to the hospital (she's not sure she'll ever let him out of her sight again after tonight), and the doctors are gracious enough to let her stay by her son's bed while they check, clean and rebandage her hands, then look over the bloody bump on her head, checking her vision, hearing and reflexes.

After a few minutes, she's given the all-clear, and Robin hugs her tightly as they breathe deeply, calming each other after the nightmare they've just lived through on this hellish Thursday.

Roland is being kept overnight for observation, and so they're assigned a room in the far end of the fifth floor, away from prying eyes. Secret Service are posted at the door, and Regina has flashbacks to a similar scene back in Philadelphia five years ago.

"I never thought we'd be here again," she whispers, tears running down her face. They're both squeezed into the big hospital bed, on either side of Roland. Regina's cheek rests atop his head, and Robin has an arm draped over both of them, pulling them in as close as he can.

He takes her hand and brings it to his lips over Roland's sleeping form, planting a soft kiss on her bandaged knuckles as he tells her, "It's over now. We're safe, my love. Roland is safe."

Regina exhales slowly at that, her eyes closing of their own accord, and lets the hand he was just holding trail over his face, feeling the coarse stubble over his jaw, the wet trails of the tears he's just started to shed.

"I love you," she whispers, her eyes remaining closed.

"I love you, too," Robin answers, bringing his hand up to touch hers on his cheek, his finger rubbing over her wedding band over the bandages.

Exhaustion wins out, and begins to pull them under where they lie. It's not the most comfortable arrangement, but neither of them can bring themselves to leave Roland's side, and so they stay, both with an arm over their son, their breathing deepening and evening out to join him in slumber.

* * *

Two days after they return home from the hospital, Albert Spencer is charged with Roland's kidnapping and conspiracy to engage in child trafficking. The scandalous events are made public by several news outlets, all with very limited, controled details on what exactly went down (Elsa's work, Regina has no doubt). They give statements where statements are due, and the entire SWAT team, as well as Mal, Emma and Agent Grump, all get special recognition from President Nolan for rescuing Roland.

And then the hard part begins, as they all go back to their lives, and Regina and Robin start trying to rebuild the innocence and inherent happiness that was stolen from their child.

Roland's eyes are no longer bright and full of wonder, but dull and wide, in constant state of fear. Every time she sees him flinch at a loud noise, or cowers from the door when someone visits, Regina hates Albert Spencer that much more.

Alan is there every morning, guarding the house even when he's not on schedule, fighting through the remnants of his cold as he tries to get Roland to engage in the playful friendship they've had since he was six years old.

John tries, too, has him draw on the cast he's been wearing on his arm since he came out of surgery. He even brings Chef Lucas from the White House to cook Roland his favorite dishes. Regina watches her son pick at his treats, maybe eat a bite or two, but there's no enthusiasm behind it, not like there used to be.

Even cooking doesn't seem to be as enjoyable an activity as it was before. Regina asks him to help her make dinner, to teach her some tricks Chef Lucas may have taught him during their lessons at the White House, and while Roland still seems to have fun playing around with ingredients, he seems to do it more out of habit than enjoyment.

It breaks her heart to watch him, to see the once joyful light in him snuffed out like this. There's times when she sees it flicker back on, like when he and Robin watch cartoons together, or when she makes him his favorite cookies after lunch... but it's muted, diminished forever by the harsh experiences he's dealt with.

It takes a few days of readjustment, but little by little, and with the help of Dr. Hopper, a wonderful child psychologist Emma recommends, Roland seems to regain some of his spark back. He starts to smile more, starts to interact more, and Regina revels in watching him come alive again.

"Pancakes or eggs, sweetheart?" she asks him on Sunday morning, three weeks after that awful Thursday. Roland taps his chin, thinking for a moment, and then smiles, pointing at the pancake mix.

"Pancakes it is," Regina tells him, starting on breakfast.

And then Robin accidentally drops the hamper on his way down the stairs, and the noise has Roland wincing and running towards the counter, hiding behind Regina.

"It's alright, baby," she tells him, trying to keep her voice from shaking as she puts a hand on the top of his head and plays with his curls. "You know how clumsy your dad can be. How much do you wanna bet there's dirty socks all over the stairs now?"

He smiles tentatively at that, shakes his head in mock exasperation at his father, and Regina laughs lightly, wishing he'd tell her what he's thinking.

Roland hasn't uttered a word since his kidnapping. Other than breathy laughs and the occasional groan or grunt, he makes no sound, only pointing, gesturing and expressing himself by other means.

She has cried herself to sleep in Robin's arms so many times now she's lost count, hoping and begging to any deity out there that her child talks again, and feeling her heart break into pieces again when he doesn't. She's been bringing Roland with her to the office, hoping that being surrounded by the adults he trusts and has grown up with will help him feel safe enough to speak. So far, she's had no luck.

Regina has been thinking of quitting. She loves her job, but this... this is just too much. She doesn't want to go through anything like this ever again. She refuses to put her family in danger.

Robin has told her leaving isn't the answer, because it gives Spencer and others like him exactly what they want. But, wonderful husband that he is, he's also told her he will support whatever decision she makes, that he'll love her no matter what.

It takes another week of Roland's torturing silence before her choice becomes clear.

She's asleep. Nestled on her side of the bed while Robin snores away on his, his arm draped loosely over her waist, cradling her against him with her back to his chest. Regina doesn't know what wakes her at first, until she hears the hoarse, childlike whisper of "Mom?" coming from the bottom corner of the bed.

Her eyes open as tears fall, silent and endless as they stream into her pillow. She doesn't say anything. Dr. Hopper had told them that they should let him speak on his own time, but not make a fuss about it when he did. That they should treat it like he's always been talking, like this is part of the routine, so that he can get back on it, back to his life, and move on.

So instead of flying to his side and wrapping him in a crushing hug like she wants to, Regina forces herself to stay put, sniffs and hastily wipes away a few tears (they're only replaced with fresh ones, though, so she gives up the pretense on that), and answers him, her voice as steady as she can make it.

"Hi, sweetheart, everything okay?"

He doesn't answer her, only climbs into the bed and settles against her, his head tucked in the crook of her neck and shoulder as she holds him. One hand runs over his hair, the faint traces of berry shampoo comforting her far more than she should let it as she waits him out.

"Love you," he says at last, a mere whisper in the stillness of the night.

Regina sighs as more tears fall, and hugs him tighter, the hand on his hair now scratching gently at his scalp, luring him back to sleep.

"I love you too, Roland."

Minutes of silence follow, and she thinks he's perhaps dozed off at last, but then he speaks again, and her heart does a somersault.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Don't quit," is all he says.

Regina is shocked that he's been paying such close attention to the many discussions she's had with Robin about this. They've tried to keep it from him, only talked about it in hushed tones when he was playing video games or otherwise engaged, but it seems they've failed.

"Are you sure, Roland?" she asks, because she has no idea what has pushed him to request something like this.

He nods, muttering a low _I'm sure_ , before he shifts a little on the bed to get more comfortable.

"Okay," Regina tells him, and just like that, her decision is made.

He drifts off then, succumbs to the veil of sleep as she watches him. She can't promise him no harm will come to him. Not after what he's suffered. But the tight grip of his hand on her shoulder is a reassurance, a reminder that they'll get through this.

Robin shifts behind her, moving closer until he's flush against her, his voice rough and sleepy as he asks, "Did he just...?"

Regina can only nod, her hand moving from Roland's hair to Robin's cheek as he leans in and kisses hers. And then he's crying, too, tears warming her hand, and she turns to kiss them away, to kiss his lips and press her forehead against his temple.

"We're gonna be okay," she tells him, and the deep sigh Robin gives her in return tells her he's been waiting to hear those words from her for a while.

She turns back a little more, seals that promise with another kiss to his lips before they settle back down on the bed and watch their son sleep, her heart feeling strong and unburdened for the first time in weeks.

"We're gonna be just fine."


	34. The Situation

_Based on a great prompt I received from an anon on Tumblr._

 _Rated M_

* * *

It's been two whole months since their wedding, and Regina has never wanted him more.

It's like getting married has somehow boosted her libido, like knowing he's officially hers for the rest of their lives has triggered a need to claim him, to mark him as just that at every possible opportunity.

Last week, she'd cornered him in his office, closed all doors and fucked him senseless right there on his chair, because she could. A few days ago, she'd jumped him in the rose garden during one of their secret late night walks, touching him over his trousers, licking a line up his jaw as she'd told him how much she wanted to make him come under the stars... she'd ended up face-first against the clear wall of one of the greenhouses, her breasts pressed into the cold glass, nipples pert and hard as he lifted her skirt, shoved her panties to the side and pounded into her, his pants down by his ankles.

Two days later, she'd woken him twice in the middle of the night. Once with her hand on his cock around midnight, stroking him until he'd been up and hard and inside her; and another with tongue-filled kisses that had driven them to a quick romp just before their 5AM wake-up call.

And last night. Oh, last night...

She'd been at a gala, in honor of some White House sponsored charity or other, welcoming diplomats and allies, and in he'd walked, wearing a blue suit that matched his eyes and did wonders for his body, the fabric clinging to all the right places. Regina had dragged her husband to a bathroom upstairs, hiked up her long red dress, and let him hoist her up with his hands on her ass. Her legs had wrapped around his waist as he slammed her against the wooden door behind her, and then he'd thrust fast and hard into her, swallowing every moan and whimper until she'd come and come and _come_.

And now here she is, in the Situation Room, surrounded by her military council, devising strategies for an arms recovery mission in Nepal, and all she can think of is how good Robin looks when he takes charge like this.

It's an easy mission, there's a team already on the way, drones are staking out the area, and she has been assured that the complex the weapons are in has been abandoned, so there's next to no risk of anything going wrong. Regina knows she should focus anyway, that it's an important mission despite the 0.9% chance of loss of human life, but Robin is biting his lip as he goes through the information on the screen, and her eyes cannot stray from the sight.

At least until one of the men in the room catches her attention with a chipper, "Wouldn't you agree, Madam President?"

Regina blanks, has no idea what the question even was, and one look at Robin, at the ridiculous smirk on his face, tells her he knows exactly why she looks so startled.

But he loves her, and proves it by depriving himself of his amusement as he saves her from embarrassment.

"We discussed this earlier today, General Li, and President Mills was quite clear that she will not be selling these weapons to China, no matter the offer."

Oh, yeah, okay, she's got this now.

"General Li, though I am very grateful that China is letting us use their airspace for this mission, and while I can appreciate that you have your country's best interests at heart, I cannot in good conscience let you take those weapons to your government. You know this."

Her tone is authoritative, firm, but she and Shang are also good friends, and so the words are carried with a hint of exasperated amusement, and a half-hearted roll of her eyes when he shrugs sheepishly at her and says, "Not even if we let you monitor their use?"

"Not even even if you offered me the giant slice of apple pie I'm craving right now," she jokes, and everyone lets out a little laugh.

General Li sighs defeatedly then, still smiling as he tells her, "Can't blame a man for trying."

"I certainly can't, but it's not gonna work, Shang, let it go," Regina answers.

The giant screen shifts from a digital map of the site to the live feed from the team currently flying over China. There's idle chatter between the agents, some ribbing and lame jokes peppered into the safety checks and mission review.

It's a lull of sorts, a short reprieve while they wait for the real action to start, and Regina takes advantage of the now-dimmed lights and the distracted chatter between her council members to pull out her old trusty Nokia and type out a quick text.

She hears the buzzing of Robin's phone from two seats away as it vibrates in his pocket, and feigns innocence as she stares up at the screen, watching out of the corner of her eye as her husband picks out the old device and smirks at her message.

 **RM:** _I want you on this conference table._

He tries to look amused as he types up his answer, but Regina catches the way he shifts in his seat just a bit, and knows she's gotten his attention, despite his eyes being so intent on the military officer now talking to him.

Her phone buzzes in her lap (and with how riled she is just thinking of Robin naked and hard, having those vibrations so close to where she's aching is probably not the best idea), and she inconspicuously rises from her chair to pour herself some coffee from the little cart by the door.

She stops when attention has been deviated from her and back to talk of the mission, and she adds fixings to her steaming cup of joe one-handed, nimble fingers clicking a response to his playful reply.

 **RL:** _If I'm not mistaken, you've had me on this conference table ;)_

 **RM:** _Perfectly good time to refresh my memory, if you ask me._

She sits back down at her chair, and engages the generals in smalltalk while they watch the feed. She asks little technical questions, nods her head in all the right parts of the conversation, and tries to look interested in what they all have to say, keeping as much focus on the mission as her currently randy attention span will allow.

But Robin hasn't answered her last text, and it's starting to bug her.

He's seen it, Regina knows he has, had adjusted himself almost imperceptibly (she wouldn't have noticed, if her eyes weren't glued to his enticing physique from across the table) and deposited his phone back in his jacket pocket, throwing her a dark, very promising look.

But she's not going to come from looks alone, and she _wants_ him. She doesn't need a reminder of the time he'd fucked her on this table. She can see it clear as day, her skirt hiked up over her ass, his hands gripping and kneading as he'd pounded her against the cool surface where her coffee cup now rests. He'd been wild that day, needy after going without sex during most of her recovery. She'd been desperate for a rougher touch then, too, had wanted to feel him taking her, possessing her, and god, just the thought of it has her growing wetter.

The screen of her phone remains blank, though, and with a quick glance at him she notices he's doing it on purpose. There's this devilish little grin on his face as he discusses something with general Jones that tells her he knows exactly what he's doing.

And he's enjoying every bit of it.

Well, two can play that game.

Regina takes her phone out again just as Robin rises from his chair and moves to the coffee cart for a refill, types up a text she just knows will give her the upper hand.

 **RM:** _If these people weren't here, I would be on my knees with your cock in my mouth._

Sure enough, there's suddenly a bit of a commotion by the cart, and Regina and the generals all turn to find a very flustered Robin hastily trying to set the mini muffin basket upright, his wrist accidentally toppling the sugar bowl in the process. His other hand has the phone still clutched in it, and he stuffs it in his pants pocket in a messy motion before he looks at them all.

"Blasted thing always does that," he excuses, and she sees what he's doing, sees the jut of his chin as he smiles nervously in Shang's direction.

Sure enough, the Chinese general murmurs his agreement, and he tells his colleagues of his own episode with the muffin basket, when he'd accidentally knocked it in his hurry to grab a quick breakfast before a meeting.

Regina smiles to herself, then picks the conversation back up.

She thinks he'll reply with a half-hearted admonishment, a short _Not now_ or a quick _Regina, this is not the time_ , but instead, his answer boasts a bit of a cheeky tone, and the fact that he wants to play has her biting into her bottom lip as she sneaks a glance at him.

She finds him staring at her, licking his lips as he nods at her lap, where he knows she's keeping her phone while she taunts him.

 **RL:** _Don't make promises you can't keep, Madam President._

There are commands being shouted now, and the helicopter on site is descending, shaking up dust and dry leaves as it hits the ground and the agents file out in quick steps.

The mission begins, and in a record seven minutes, the weapons have been secured and loaded onto the vehicle that will carry them to the nearest safe landing point. The military aircraft is already there, waiting in a secure perimeter, and the entire endeavor is considered a success.

It seems the build-up was longer than the actual recovery of the smuggled weapons, and after congratulatory handshakes and trite comments on an excellent performance, the generals are filing out of the Sit Room in twos and threes.

Regina says her goodbyes to Shang while Robin cuts off the feed, secures the channels, and switches the screens back to their default image of the Great Seal, their dull glow illuminating the room in navy and white. If she didn't know any better, she'd think it nighttime, but the bustle of the corridor outside can be heard while the door is open, staff members walking down to lunch, greeting Secret Service agents on the way.

Shang is met at the door by Tuck, the White House Chief Usher, who offers to see him out while the President and her Chief of Staff go get ready for their luncheon.

Shit.

She'd forgotten about the luncheon.

It's a diplomacy thing, and there's a speech she must deliver to all the refugee advocacy leaders that are probably already starting to arrive, as well as the media and several foreign officials. Ruby has picked out an outfit, something clean cut and comfortable that she should be putting on right now, but...

She looks at Robin then, who is appraising her from where he's leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes roam her figure.

Maybe they won't notice if she's a few minutes late.

And besides, she's been dealing with a crisis all morning. She deserves this.

Robin seems to be thinking the same thing, because she hasn't even said a word and he's already using the secure line in the Sit Room to dial the Secret Service office.

Regina shuts the door behind her and leans against it as she watches him. She studies the line of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders as he rakes his hungry gaze over her body, the phone dialing on speaker between them.

"Hey, boss," Agent Swan's voice rings loud, a cheerful greeting that has Robin tearing his eyes away from Regina and muttering a quick hello in response.

"I need a favor," he tells her, his voice cautious.

At her _Name it_ , he throws a cheeky look at Regina, smiles as he tells Agent Swan, "I need you to make the Sit Room go dark."

"Dark? Why would you— oh, god, Robin, not again!" she whines over the line, and Regina can't help the little hiccup of silent laughter that bubbles out of her as the blonde adds a frustrated whisper of, "Why can't you just use a bed like everyone else?!"

"Can you buy me an hour?" Robin asks, ignoring her tirade.

"Are you _trying_ to get me fired?! Do you know the kind of pandemonium that would occur if the White House Situation Room went dark for an hour?! DHS would have my head!"

"No one ever has to know, you're the only one keeping an eye on the feed at this time of day... although if you'd rather watch..."

"Gross. Stop. Stop right now, you'll give me nightmares," Agent Swan interrupts, and Regina chuckles, audibly this time, letting Emma know she's being heard over speaker.

"Madam President, I'm so sorry," she backtracks, stumbling over her words, "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Agent Swan," Regina waves her off as she walks closer to the phone, the click of her heels muffled by the dark carpet that covers the space. When she's close enough to be properly heard, she asks, "Can you get us an hour alone or not?"

The other woman sighs, hesitating a bit in her mumbling before she says, "No, ma'am, I'm sorry. I can't get you an hour."

"What can you get us, Emma?" Robin asks then.

Regina lets her hands slide over her thighs, feeling the softness of the beet-colored fabric as she goes. Her husband follows the movement, licking his lips slowly and giving her a very particular smirk.

He wants to eat her out. She knows what that smile means, what those lust-darkened eyes are telling her. He wants to taste her, to make her come with his tongue, and the mere thought of it has Regina growing desperate, has her closing her eyes and fighting a moan.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and they've forgotten they're not exactly alone, until Emma's voice mutters a resigned, "I can get you thirty-five minutes. Maybe forty if no one comes into my office."

"Forty will do quite nicely," Robin tells her, and then hangs up the call when the woman on the other end sighs and begrudgingly accepts her task with a low _You owe me, Locksley._

And then the line is dead, the screens are off, and the only source of light are the dull beams from the bulbs on the ceiling. It's a glowy, cozy sort of atmosphere, not dark by any means, but... intimate. Private.

Exactly what she wants.

"Sit over there," Regina instructs her husband.

He's surprised, but follows her command all the same, throwing a devious smile her way as he teases, "Something the matter, Madam President?"

Regina doesn't answer, only raises an eyebrow as she draws the nearest chair back, back, back, until it's away from the table, rolling aimlessly along the carpet with the forceful push of her foot.

Robin drags his own chair back as well, leaving ample room between the table and his legs, his hands twining fingers over his lap.

She sinks down then, crawling slowly under the table, minding her head from hitting the smooth black surface and keeping an eye on the other end, where Robin waits.

"Regina?" he calls, sounding confused. She can't see his face from down here, but that's about to be remedied. Her bare knees drag over the carpeted floor, carrying her over to his side of the table, where his legs part the second he catches a glimpse of her.

Her gaze zeroes in on him, her eyes taking in the lust in his own. He's aroused, and maybe just a little amused at the image before him, and Regina supposes it must be quite the picture, having the leader of the free world kneeling and ready to suck him off.

Her hands move up his thighs, his own placed right over her arms and joining in the movement as he looks at her and grunts.

"You weren't kidding with the text, were you?" he asks when she licks her lips, her eyes trained on his belt buckle as nimble fingers undo it. She lowers the zipper as slowly as she can, smirking up at him when he groans in frustration.

"Patience, Mr. Locksley," she taunts.

"Easy for you to say," he counters.

"If you could feel how wet I am right now, you wouldn't be sassing me like that," she throws back, and Robin's sharp intake of breath at her words is the perfect reward.

"Fuck, yes, let me feel you, Regina," he begs, and begins to move forward, but she tuts and shakes her head, stopping him.

"I get to play first," she declares, finally freeing his erection from the confines of his trousers. Her hand wraps around his shaft, feeling the warm smoothness of it as she pumps him lazily.

He's hard, yes, but could be harder, and she seeks to remedy that on the spot. Pulling back his foreskin on the next pass of her hand, she gives the bare tip of him a teasing little lick, another, a third one that makes him gasp and jut his hips in the direction of her departing tongue.

"Yes!" he rasps, swallowing thickly before he leans forward.

His hand cradles her cheek, pulls her up to him as he kisses her deeply. His tongue moves in time with the slow strokes of her hand on his cock, teasing along her lower lip right before his teeth pull at it gently. She loves when he does that, loves that little bit of contradiction between sweet and rough in the way he kisses her, like he wants to fuck her and cherish her at the same time.

But they only have forty minutes (nigh on thirty-five now, she wagers), and the only way this will happen is if they graduate to a bit of a rougher touch. So Regina takes a breath, blows it out slowly over the tip of his cock, now stiff and ready in her palm, and then lowers her mouth to him.

"Fuuuck!" he shouts, his hand immediately tangling in her hair as Regina bobs her head lower, lower, taking in more and more of him, her tongue flat under his shaft as she goes. He's groaning and letting out nonsensical expletives, fingers tightening and loosening in her hair, following the rhythm of her head as she begins to move it up and back down.

She sucks him harder, but still slow, still lazy, her eyes focused on his face, watching his reactions to everything she does to him.

"You look so fucking beautiful," he tells her, his voice not breathy enough for her liking. But that will be fixed in a few minutes, as she withdraws her mouth from his cock and crawls up his body, looming over him and trapping his lower lip in both of hers.

The kiss is wet, and uncoordinated, and it only grows needier as she grabs his cock in her hand again, her thumb pressing on his tip and spreading the liquid bead of his arousal over him.

"Mmm," she mutters into his mouth, "been wanting to suck your cock all day."

He hisses at that, then again when she bites his lower lip and pulls, harshly, his tongue delving back into her mouth for another sloppy kiss before she lets go and resumes her task.

Her knees chafe a bit against the carpet, but she pays it no mind, focuses on licking a line up his shaft, then swirling her tongue over the head of him before sliding back down. One hand massages his balls, the other rakes nails over his thigh, eliciting sounds from him Regina knows she'll never get tired of hearing.

He gasps her name, then pleas with a stuttered "S— su— suck, please just—"

She does just that, sucks at him almost greedily and then hums with her mouth still around him. The vibrations have him trembling with the pleasure, have him groaning out a low _Fuck, yes, just like that_ between shallow breaths, and yes, that's more like it.

She teases him, swirling the tip of her tongue along the tiny ridge under his foreskin, and his answering moan sparks her confidence and her arousal all in one.

Regina smiles (as much as she can with her mouth ful of his cock, anyway), and gives him a hard suck before she licks at that little ridge again, reveling in the sounds he makes for her.

"So close, my love, I'm gonna— fuck, that's so hot, watching you suck my cock like that," he tells her, his hand still tangled in her hair. She can feel the strength in his grip, can also feel the tension, the desperate attempt to not push her head down the way he so clearly desires.

"Robin," she tells him, after his cock has popped out from between her lips, sloppy and wet with her spit. "Fuck my mouth like you want to."

His answer is a loud "Shit!" and then a gasp, followed by a breathy, "You sure?"

Those are the moments, she thinks, where she loves him the most, when he's needy and riled and desperate to do all manner of naughty things to her, and still finds it in himself to ask for confirmation. To make sure that her consent is fully given before whatever devious plan he has in mind is put into motion.

Regina nods, tells him again, "I want you to fuck my mouth until you come, Robin," and is rewarded with yet more curses and babbling, with another _So hot_ that makes her own arousal grow.

His hand tightens its grip on her hair, and starts guiding her movements, up and down and hard and deep, the tip of him hitting the back of her throat. Regina swallows against her gag reflex, appreciates the way he keeps the pace slow despite the firm strokes, giving her time to adjust.

"That feels— Ah! Yes, _mmm_ — so good, my love, so good." His words encourage her, have her swirling her tongue over him eagerly when he pulls her head away, his tip bouncing a bit against her open mouth. The spit that coats him wets her lower lip, and Robin groans as he looks at her, making Regina smile smugly even as he trails his hand from her hair to her face, his thumb swiping away the wetness of her mouth.

There's a sound coming from him, this little raspy thing in the back of his throat, not quite a moan but not quite a gasp, either. It's soft, but primal, a hint of just how turned on he is as she lets him guide her head back to his cock, her mouth enveloping him once more.

"Mmm, god, your mouth is a bloody marvel," he tells her in a hushed, lustful tone, coaxing her head up and down at a bit of a faster pace now. She swallows, and sucks, and deftly keeps up with his urges. She knows him (he's her _husband_ after all), knows what he likes, so when his hand keeps her head pressed down on his cock, she can tell exactly what he wants.

She takes him in fully, letting him go deeper and deeper into her mouth, until her lips are at the base of him, the tip of her nose skimming over the sensitive skin of his navel.

"Oh, _fuck,_ yes! That's it, that's it, that's— shit! So good," he rambles, and Regina feels another little lick of satisfaction slither up her spine.

He drags her away slowly, and licks his lips when Regina moans around him, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He opens them to meet her heated gaze, teeth sinking into his lower lip when his cock falls from between her lips, a short pause while she catches her breath.

"I'll never get tired of seeing my cock in your mouth," he whispers, his hand tightening and loosening in her hair in gentle tugs. It's a soothing gesture of appreciation, one that is completely at odds with his comment, with the way he bites his lower lip and tells her how badly he wants to fuck her with his tongue.

"You want it, don't you?" he asks her when she moans. "You want to come on my tongue."

She nods and bends back to take him in again, letting him dictate the rhythm of her sucks as he moves her head over his cock.

Except she can't exactly concentrate when he's still _talking_ to her.

"I can't wait to taste you," he says, "to put my fingers inside you and make you scream. Do you want that, Regina? I know how you love it when I finger you while I eat you..."

He's talking about that little maddening trick he does with his fingers, when he pushes into her and then presses downward for a few moments before curving up to find her G-spot, all while his tongue does wonders to her clit. And he's right, she loves it, loves how full that trick makes her feel, as if it's his cock and not a pair of fingers... and god, just the idea of it. Of feeling that inside her as he licks and sucks right where she wants him...

One of her hands is still on his balls, still massaging and adding to the different sensations she's providing for him with her mouth, but her other hand is free, slack against her side. She puts it to good use, lets it skim over her stomach and down, under her skirt and over her panties, rubbing slow circles over her clit.

"God, yes, touch yourself, love," he tells her, and his hand adds just the tiniest bit of force to its grip, moving her head up and down on his shaft, a little faster now, a little harder, the tip of him reaching the back of her throat again and again. Regina swallows around him, sucks hard at him when he bobs almost all the way out, and takes the reprieve he offers when his hand grows limp in her hair.

She releases his balls, moves that hand back to the base of his shaft, stroking up and down as she sucks at his tip, reaching the very top and pulling back his foreskin again so that her tongue can stutter along that ridge, licking up the precum there and making this low, guttural scream tumble out of him.

His hips buck up and off the chair, and Regina hums her approval, licks more of him, her tongue leaving more wet trails along the smooth skin of his rock-hard cock.

"Fuck, yes, keep going, love, I'm gonna come so hard," he pants, one hand back in her hair, back to dictating the pace of her movements (faster now, she notices, a bit rougher), and his desperation makes her moan, makes her give the head of his cock another long swirl of her tongue while it's trapped in her mouth.

"Shit, you feel so— fuck, I'm— Mmmnaahh, gonna come..."

She realizes that the urgency in his tone is a warning, in case she wants to pull away before he reaches that peak, but she meant her words from earlier, she wants to suck him off, is so riled up that all she desires right now is to feel him come in her mouth, watch him shatter and shout and tell her how fucking good she feels.

And then he does it.

It doesn't take more than another little moan, the vibrations of her muffled _Mmm_ along his sensitive tip, another hard suck, and then he's cursing and trembling as he comes and comes, his release a series of warm spurts down her throat.

She swallows it all, and then watches him. He's panting, still, his limbs melting a bit onto the chair as he looks down at her with this adorable, lazy smile on his face.

"Funny how I'm the one who had a cock down her throat and you're the one who needs to catch his breath," she teases, because she can't help it, loves that he's so spent and sated by her actions.

"You," he says, "are a fucking goddess." His hand cradles her cheek, runs a thumb along her swollen lower lip, that easy smile still on full blast. Idiot.

She chuckles at that dopey look on his face, shakes her head away from his grasp, and reminds him, "It's your turn to play now."

Robin's smile only grows, and then he's hooking his index finger under her chin, lifting her head up and bringing her to him. Her knees protest the second she rises, popping and hurting as she straightens up and leans her ass on the table, stretching a bit while her husband's eyes wander over her body.

He stands then, his cock limp and bare between them, and says, "You are entirely too dressed for me to play properly, Mrs. Locksley."

"Is that so?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and then turns her back to him, moving her hair to the side and offering the zipper of her dress to him with a naughty, "Well, by all means, _Mr._ Locksley."

Just the touch of his hand over the back of her neck sends shivers down her spine. She hadn't realized just how turned on she'd gotten by sucking his cock, but the awareness is in sharp focus now, making her gasp when she feels his lips land a kiss just above the collar of her dress.

And then he's dragging that zipper down in one fast, fluid motion, his hands immediately reaching for her ass and kneading deliciously before he turns her again and shoves the fabric off of her.

She's in a matching set of black silk under the dress, simple and elegant (if you can call skimpy lingerie elegant, anyway). There's no elaborate lace or frilly garters like she's worn for him lately, but it seems to do the trick all the same, because he's burying his face between her breasts and groaning there.

At her answering gasp, Robin nips and sucks at the swells, then brings them out of the cups and stares at them, his mouth open and wanting.

In seconds, he closes his lips around a nipple and sucks hard, making Regina breathe out an _Oh, god_ that makes him smile into her breast. Before she can admonish him for being smug, he's running his teeth over her wet nipple, not biting, but rather tickling the sensitive skin with feather-light nibbles.

And then, just as his tongue starts to flick at the hardened peak, she feels his hand drop to her clit, fingers rubbing in tandem, and he knows, he knows what this does to her, having him pay such wonderful attention to her breasts while he touches her. He knows it makes her loud, makes her needy, makes her gasp and buck into his hand and beg for—

"How badly do you want my fingers inside you, Regina?" he asks, because of course, he knows she's about to beg for them, to scream at him to please fuck her with his hand. It's what she does when he sucks at her nipples and rubs her clit like he's doing now.

"God, Robin, we don't have time for this, just— Mmmh!" she whimpers, because instead of waiting for her answer, he's already pushed two fingers into her, probing and testing, moaning over how wet she is.

"Sit back on the table, my love," he tells her, and Regina obeys immediately, spreading her legs to give him better access to her aching sex as Robin leans over her and keeps sucking at her nipples. He switches from one to the other, using his free hand to grasp the just-abandoned breast and knead. At her near-scream of pleasure, he runs the pad of his thumb over her nipple, now slick with his spit, and keeps mouthing at her other breast, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while that hand he has on her sex moves faster, thrusts his fingers harder.

"Robin, please, I need..." she trails off, because she doesn't know _what_ she needs exactly, only that she needs to come.

"I know, darling, I know," he tells her, and good, at least _he_ knows, and will give it to her if she just moans a little more, she knows he will.

So she does, let's the full-throated cry of pleasure that rips out of her ring loud in the quiet space around them, and Robin grunts, the rhythm of his hand faltering slightly.

He hasn't eaten her yet, hasn't brought his mouth down to her clit or his tongue down to her entrance like she wants him to. And she's already bare-assed on the conference table of the Situation Room, with only twenty minutes left before their privacy expires. He needs to hurry.

She moans on a particularly hard thrust of his hand, turned on as she is by the wet little sound that the action throws out into the gasping symphony between them. He does it again, looking to elicit the same reaction, and this time he drowns it in a groan of his own as he tells her, "Fucking hell, I love it when you scream for me."

"I'm so close, babe," she whimpers, her breaths short and shallow as she braces herself on her arms, stretched just behind her back. His hand slows its rhythm, prolonging the delicious feeling as he moves two fingers in and out of her, rotating them while his eyes roam her naked figure.

She takes the reprieve, calms her breathing and then leans back a little further, palms flat against the smooth black table as she whispers, "Make me come."

Her words do something to him, she sees that primal need flare up in his eyes the second she says them, and then Robin is on her, plopping himself back on the chair and moving as close as he can to the table. He stares at her first, runs his fingers through the wetness of her sex and follows the movement with his eyes, licking his lips before he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks her arousal right off, moaning at the taste of her.

"Bloody perfect," he whispers, his voice a low, gravelly thing that lights her body on liquid fire, waves of pleasure erupting as he fingers her again, running his thumb firmly over her clit this time.

"God, yes!" she yells, because that's exactly what she needs, she needs attention on her clit. She wants his mouth, but they're running out of time, and she's desperate enough, and it feels _so good,_ that she's sure she'll easily come from this, from his talented fingers sliding in and out, from that thumb keeping her clit well seen to.

But he withdraws his hand, and the next moan she'd been about to give him comes out as a frustrated cry of "Robin!"

Her wonderful, loving husband, cheeky dolt that he is, only smiles at her.

And then he keeps his eyes on hers, steady and lustful as he finally bends down and gives her a slow, flat lick.

This time, when she shouts his name, it's a long, draw-out _Robiiinnn!_ as her hand instantly flies to his head, tangling in his hair and tugging slightly as she keeps him just there.

Not that she needs to, with the greedy way he's licking and sucking at her now. His tongue is relentless, flicking at the sensitive bud in quick little strokes that feel unbelievable, especially when paired with those two fingers he now has teasing at her entrance.

"Please," she whines, because she _needs_ it, needs that little downward push of his fingers inside her like he—

"Oh, fuck!" Regina screams when he does just that, and the feeling of his digits pressing down inside her once, twice, rotating again and again, is all kinds of erotic, all kinds of amazing.

He moans at her reaction, closes his lips around her clit and sucks hard as he moves his hand a little faster, and then he's curving his fingers up, searching for her G-spot.

When he finds it, he doesn't let up, and gives her a few quick thrusts before he's pulling out and moving his mouth lower, the tip of his tongue laving over the sensitive skin. His fingers spread her open for him, and then his tongue is at her entrance, wet and warm and incredible, and Regina cannot help but gasp at the wonderful sensation.

Her grip on his hair tightens, and she mutters encouragement in the form of needy little _Oh_ s and _Yes_ es that spur him on, make his tongue move faster as it slides in and out of her.

"Fuck, you feel so good, babe, so good," she whispers, her eyes closing against her will. She wants to _watch_ him, wants to see that satisfied look on his face when he stares up at her and gives her a deliberately slow lick just to provide her with a better visual. But it feels too good, and her body is in overdrive, her hand falling from his hair as she surrenders to the feeling of his tongue fucking her, of his fingers as they push back into her when his mouth takes its place back at her clit.

"So fucking wet," he mutters, low and raspy against her sex, and Regina forces her eyes open then, looks back down at him and moans at the image before her.

Robin's eyes are closed, one hand busy between her legs while the other is down and out of sight, but she can see the slight movement of his arm, knows exactly what he's doing.

"Oh, god, you're..." she trails off, gasping when he gives her another hard suck, a wordless admission that yes, his cock already wants her again.

He's not hard, she knows from the slow movements of his hand that he's not ready to go just yet, but he is well on his way, and fuck, she so wishes they had more time so she could ride him on this table, feel his cock fill and stretch her to perfection...

"So close," she babbles, and Robin is licking fast at her clit again, pausing only to suck at it while his fingers continue to move inside her. The thrusts of his hand are hard, deep, have him hitting that spot that makes her writhe and mewl under his touch.

"Yes, right there, right there! Aahh!" Regina shouts breathily, moans again when Robin continues his attentions, parting from her only to tell her how _fucking gorgeous_ she is, _all wet and needy like this_.

"It's all you, babe, all you," she tells him, because it's true, and because she needs to come, and stroking his ego usually makes him even more eager to make that happen. "I'm so wet for you."

"Damn right, you are," he agrees with a possessive grunt, licking over her clit in flat, long strokes that make her whimper as he adds, "Are you mine, Regina?"

"All yours," Regina concedes in a gasp, and it must do something to him, because his answer is a loud moan that sends little vibrations over her clit, a faster thrust of his hand.

He sucks at her, making slurpy sounds that get her hotter, wetter, and _Yes, right there_ , she tells him, her voice a low, breathy thing.

Robin doesn't stop, keeps the steady rhythm, the deep fingering, the wet, sloppy sucks. His other hand abandons his cock, moves to press down on her lower belly, shifting the angle just a bit and keeping her steady even as her back arches and her hips buck into his hand at the newfound pleasure.

"Fuuuuck!" she screams. "That feels— god, yes! Don't stop, don'tstopdon— _Mmmh_ , fuck!"

Orgasm washes over her in waves, rippling through every part of her as Robin continues to lick and suck and finger her while she comes. His hand holds her in place despite the delicious trembling of her body, little tingles of pleasure overtaking her, echoing through her very skin as she gasps and moans and gasps again.

His hand slows inside her when she relaxes, the arm she'd been using to hold herself up falling slack beside her, as she stretches out on the table, the hand she'd had in his hair running its thumb over his plump lower lip. God, he's a sight, with his mouth wet and a little swollen from being so long between her legs. She hums, satisfied and boneless on the tabletop, and he's so satisfied in his achievement that he lets out a bit of a laugh as he places one last, tiny kiss over her clit.

"Smug bastard," she tells him, but there's no real insult behind her words, rather a breathy laugh that he joins into when he pulls back to look at her.

"Language, Mrs. Locksley," he chides, smiling all the while. Regina shakes her head, or rather lets it flop lazily to one side, unable to fully move just yet.

"And with three minutes to spare," she informs him when her eyes catch the clock on the wall. Robin chuckles again, then looms over her, the warmth of his body washing over hers as he kisses her, slow and deep.

"Mmm," he says against her lips, "unless you want Emma to see you in all your naked glory, I suggest we head back to our chambers now. You still have that luncheon to attend."

Shit. Right. The luncheon.

The realization that she now has to go back to her very busy life as the president shakes that lazy post-orgasm fog from her mind, has her sitting up and jumping down from the table, looking for her clothes and putting them on hastily while Robin does the same.

She doesn't bother with her shoes or her bra, rather lets them dangle from her fingers as they both quickly exit the Sit Room and sneak down a hidden passageway behind an adjacent wall.

It reminds her a bit of when he'd make his way through these little shortcuts to visit her in her room, back when their relationship was still a secret. It's amusing how these hidden corridors seem to be the most fervent witnesses to their love for each other, seeing as they are now, once again, using them to escape notice, to avoid her staff from taking one look at her and realizing what she's been up to with her very hot, very sexually talented husband.

"I want you to fuck me against one of these walls," she whispers as they walk.

Robin turns to look at her, a little dumbfounded by her suggestion.

"But... we'll be late to the luncheon," he excuses, though she can tell his heart isn't in it, he's already stopping their hurried steps, already turning and putting his hands on her waist.

"We're late anyway, might as well make it worthwhile," she argues, and her husband raises an eyebrow at her at that.

"Was it not worthwhile when I had you coming on my hand and tongue just a few minutes ago?" he asks, faking offense.

"Oh, that was very... very much worth the while," she starts, her free hand walking two fingers up his chest, touching the skin left in sight by the open collar of his shirt. "But I want to come again... with your cock inside me."

She keeps her voice flirty and seductive, a mere whisper in the limited space between them as she drops her bra and shoes to the floor, the heels landing with a loud _clank!_ that echoes in the somewhat cavernous space.

Robin breathes out heavily at her words, his fingers digging firmly into her waist where he holds her as he protests, "God, don't say those things to me right now."

"But they're true," she teases, taking his hand from its perch over her dress and moving it under the skirt, until he can feel her, hot and wanting beneath the fabric of her panties.

"God, you're still soaked," he observes, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he fingers her slowly, prodding and exploring while she breathes warmly against his ear.

"Imagine how good it will feel, Robin, just the two of us, locked in here with no one to catch us, no one to hear... you could make me scream as loud as you want."

His fingers move a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he's too distracted by her words to do any proper foreplay, but they don't need it. She's still wet, and he's already hard from hearing her.

The hand she'd used to move his below the dress now drifts to his cock, stroking him over his pants and moaning at how ready he is (thank _god_ for brief refractory periods).

After a few pumps, Regina loosens the belt buckle and unbuttons his pants, watching them fall down to his ankles.

"Fuck me, Robin," she tells him, just in case he needs more convincing.

He doesn't, though, not if the sharp intake of breath he gives her in response is any indication.

His hand leaves her then, moves to hike the dress up, until it's over her thighs, bunched over her lower stomach. Regina moans just as his fingers leave her, and then he's kicking away his pants from where they are crumpled in a heap beneath them, and growling into her neck as he lifts her up, her legs wrapping around him instantly.

The tip of his cock brushes against her clit with the movement. Regina lets out a strangled _Aaah!_ that sounds foreign and raspy, but it does the trick, has him nipping at her chin, kissing her wildly as he presses her into the wall behind her.

Her back arches in reaction to the cold stone, but resettles against it just as Robin uses one hand to shove her panties to the side, lines his cock with her entrance, and pushes into her in one smooth stroke.

They moan together, a breathy laugh escaping him when he realizes the coincidence.

And then Regina is looking deep into his eyes, licking her lips, and urging him, "Go on, Mr. Locksley. Fuck me. Hard."

Robin groans, burying his face in her neck and kissing there, ravishing her skin as he slowly pulls almost all the way out... and slams back in hard.

"Fuck, yes, babe, like that," Regina whimpers, licking at his jaw, tangling her hand in the hair on the back of his neck and pulling. She smiles smugly at the grunt of satisfaction he lets out into her jaw, before he nips at it and licks a trail of kisses down to her mouth.

His tongue is velvety and warm as it savors hers, and Regina revels in it, in the wetness of their kisses as they grow deeper, more intense, his cock moving faster now, setting a rhythm that has her so close to coming already.

"So good, so g— oh, god!" she shouts, because they're alone in here, undisturbed, and she can scream down the rafters if she wants to. And oh, does she want to.

Robin presses her more firmly into the wall, drives his hips faster, harder into hers, his cock filling her over and over again in time with her cries of pleasure, and god, she loves this, loves _him_ , so, so much.

"You like that?" he asks, a hurried gasp into her ear, "Do you like the way my cock feels inside you, Regina?"

"Yes!" she yells, "Yes, don't stop! Love when— ah! When you f— mmm— fuck me like this."

He moves infinitesimally to the right, no more than the shifting of his weight from one foot to the other, and in that tiny change, he finds it, hits that sweet spot inside her with his cock, over and over again, firm and unrelenting.

The sound she lets out is wild, and needy, and far too loud, silenced only when his lips land on hers in another messy kiss.

"I love hearing you," he says into her mouth, and Regina only answers with a loud _Mmmh_ that trails into a breathy, broken thing when he hits that spot yet again.

Her arms loop tighter around his neck, and she starts to roll her hips into his, using the wall for purchase so she can meet his thrusts.

The action makes him lose that spot for a moment, but he distracts her with his hand, moving it between them beneath her skirt and moving the fabric of her underwear a bit more, so he can flick roughly at her clit while he tries to find that angle again.

The moment he does, pleasure blooms in her belly, spreads out to the rest of her and has her screaming out a high-pitched _Robin!_ that makes him fuck her deeper, faster, ramming her into the wall with every thrust of his cock inside her.

His hand abandons her clit, and moves up to her breasts, covered by her dress. He finds a nipple over the fabric, rolls it between his fingers as he kisses her again. It's not nearly as good as it feels when she's naked, without this pesky barrier of knit burgundy, but it does the trick, works enough to rile her further, to have her whispering a needy _Harder_ , into his ear.

He obeys without question, pumps harder into her, hitting her G-spot again and again each time.

"So fucking tight," he grunts, his hips moving in tandem with hers as she bounces on his cock, and it feels so good, so fucking good, she can't help the broken _Aah_ that tumbles out of her. Can't stop her body from arching into his, her mouth from seeking his for another tongue-filled kiss.

His hands are both back on her waist, her breasts left unattended, but she's so ready to come that it doesn't matter, all that matters is that his hips keep moving just like that, that his cock keeps hitting that spot just like this.

"God, I'm so close, darling, I— fuck!" he rambles, thrusting and gasping into her neck.

She's screaming, panting, digging her nails into his back because she's almost there, almost, all she needs is—

"Come, Regina," he orders as he pulls his head back, his voice husky and unbelievably hot, and fuck, yes, that's it, that is exactly what she needs. She needs the talking, needs that dirty, predatory look he's giving her as he adds, "I want to feel you coming on my cock."

And she does. Screams her orgasm as it hits, writhing in his hold. Robin follows right after, still thrusting into her as he comes, his mouth urgent on hers, swallowing her cries.

Everyone else is going about their busy days while she's here, in this hidden passage getting fucked by her husband against a wall. It feels illicit, and amazing, and her entire body tingles with the pleasure of it all.

"That was..." Robin trails off, his forehead falling to her shoulder again, his lips planting a tiny peck there as he exhales warmly into her skin.

His cock is still buried inside her, softening as they both catch their breath and share languid, deep kisses. She feels relaxed, happy, wants to smile and laugh and kiss him some more. So she does. Because he is her husband and she _can_.

He hums when they pull away, lets out this tiny little _Mmm_ after their mouths part with a wet pop. It makes her smile, makes her lean in to dot a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Now," she says, her voice a quiet murmur in their blissful little bubble, "we better get going, Mr. Lockley, we have to get dressed for the luncheon we're already late for."

"Your wish is my command, your majesty," he teases, and Regina scowls at him, or tries to, anyway. She hates that nickname, hates it, but she's still riding that post-coital high, and her angry reaction loses its bite when she can't tamp down her smile.

* * *

Of course, they are _very_ late to the event, and are met at the entrance to the ballroom by a very nervous Elsa.

"Madam President, I was told you'd be here half an hour ago," says the Press Secretary, trying —and failing— to conceal her worry, "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," Regina assures her, tightening her grip on Robin's hand beside her as they walk in together. She chances a look at him, at that ridiculously well-fitted charcoal suit he's wearing, takes a deep breath that carries a whiff of his pine-scented cologne, and god, she wants him again.

She's in a lovely dress, purple and classy, with an asymmetrical neckline and two black ribbons that tie into a pretty bow just over the back of her neck. Her hair is down, and the black pumps she's wearing carry her a little taller as she weaves through their guests.

She makes a point to lean forward whenever Robin is standing right behind her, makes sure her rear is on full display for him as she moves to greet people. She's not wearing underwear, not with this dress, and knows the exact moment Robin realizes it, because she's just reached a secluded corner by the entrance when all of a sudden his hands are on her waist, his breathing heavy and warm in her ear as he whispers, "Madam President, it seems you've forgotten something."

His hand smoothes over her ass as he says it, perfectly hidden between her body and his, unbeknownst to the dignitaries now fluttering about and greeting each other with stiff _Hello_ s.

The band they've hired for the occasion starts to play, the music muffling the constant murmur of hundreds of conversations going on at once. Their guests are distracted, and she's greeted everyone she was supposed to greet. Perfect.

"Have I?" Regina asks innocently, pressing further into him, so that the hand he has on her is now trapped between her ass and his crotch as they walk backwards to a nearby pillar, only stopping when Robin's back thuds softly against the marble.

Regina realizes that desire must be evident on her face, or maybe on his. Either way, what they're doing must be obvious, because they're starting to get weird looks from the Secret Service agents posted by the neighboring pillars, including John, who is closer to them, and suddenly finds a very interesting spot in a nearby wall.

Regina can only smirk, turns to her husband with her teeth digging into her lower lip.

"Stop that," Robin warns, but his eyes are glued to her mouth, his tongue peeking out to wet his own. She's got him.

"What do you say," she offers, "if we go and, uh, find what I forgot... in your office?"

"Tempting as that sounds, we are being watched," he argues, and Regina deflates at that, because yes, he's right, but she wants to—

"So I'd suggest we retire to the Residence, not to my office," Robin says then, and there's that glint in his eye, that need in his tone.

She smiles then, big and wide. Can't help it.

"Bedroom it is," she agrees.

He leans in then, his mouth pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The action is fully at odds with the animalistic hunger she can see all over his face (the same one that is reflected in her own, she's sure), but the feather-light touch of his lips grounds her, has her grasping his hands and squeezing for a moment.

"I love you," she says, grinning when his forehead falls on hers as he tells her he loves her, too. So much.

There's a little metallic clink in the grip of their right hands, and Regina lets her eyes fall on their wedding bands. Her engagement ring catches the light from the splendid chandeliers all around them, making it twinkle and shine beautifully; and the reflective glow of the diamond embellishes the simple white gold band that lays right next to it, the one that has a curvy _Forever yours_ and their wedding date engraved on the inside.

"Marrying you is the best thing that's ever happened to me," Robin tells her, when he catches where her gaze has shifted to. "After Roland, of course."

Regina chuckles at that, agrees with a low, "After Roland, definitely," that has him smiling in return.

The sweet moment has calmed her down somewhat, but his lips are still so close, and god, they'd felt so good on her neck earlier, on her nipples, her clit...

"Agent Little," Regina calls, "Please let Press Secretary Frost know I'm going up to my room, I'm feeling a little... flustered. Need some peace and quiet. Vice President Nolan and his wife should be here in ten minutes, I'm sure she can handle our guests just fine in the meantime."

"Yes, ma'am," John acknowledges, still not tearing his eyes away from that enthralling spot on the wall, his cheeks flaming red.

Regina chuckles a bit, tries to get him to lighten up. "Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun, Agent Little," she tells him, "I'll be back before dessert is served. Can't miss that apple pie."

John _Yes, ma'am_ s her again, trying to share in her amusement with an awkward laugh. And Robin, who has remained quiet throughout the entire exchange, claps John on the back when they walk by him, shaking his head at his friend's obvious embarrassment.

"You enjoy messing with him way too much," he accuses, and Regina says nothing. Mainly because it's true. She's lost count of how many times she's made John blush like that.

* * *

She fucks him on their bed, thrilled to bits that she can have her husband so desperate between her legs.

Robin remains flat on his back over the soft sheets, his hands held captive on either side of his head by Regina's grip on his wrists. She rides him, hard and fast, making the bed squeak with every hurried roll of her hips, the high-pitched sound joining their loud moans.

The more she circles her hips, the better it feels, and when Robin plants his feet flat on the mattress, and starts meeting her downward motions with upward thrusts of his own, it takes no time at all for them to find that perfect angle, for his cock to hit that sweet spot inside her in quick, firm passes.

The dull slap of skin on skin echoes in the quiet of the room, and Regina gasps and screams as she leans further over him, keeping his wrists locked in her fingers against the sheets, moaning when his mouth reaches awkwardly at a nipple and gives it a hard suck.

She comes not long after, with a loud _Fuck_ and a whimper of his name. Robin follows almost immediately, finally freeing his hands from her grasp and rolling them over, kissing her with passion and tongue and a ferocity she cannot get enough of.

When Regina falls asleep that night, after the day has been tackled and conquered, she does so to the cadence of her husband's heartbeat, the soothing sound of his breathing, and the warmth of his naked body under hers...


	35. All Work, All Play

**_To my dearest, darlingest Starscythe on her birthday. Thank you for being one of the best friends I could ever ask for, and for always lending your incredible talent to my stories with every piece of gorgeous cover art you make for them. I love you, and I hope you enjoy this tiny present._**

 ** _Beware: it's smutty ;)_**

* * *

Tonight has not gone the way she thought it would.

It's been a very long day, and she's spent it in New York City, addressing the UN on the new refugee crisis. She'd taken Robin's coat with her, as a way to keep him close, but it's not enough, and she misses him, despite the thick fabric and the fresh pine scent of him warding off the early January chill. It's silly, maybe, that she's so torn up about being without him for one day, but they haven't had a lot of time together lately, and being away from home, even for a few hours, just intensifies that need to have him close.

She'd been very much looking forward to spending some time cuddling with her husband in their comfy bed, had been fantasizing about it on the plane ride home. She wants those steady, firm passes of his fingers massaging her scalp under the warm spray of their shower, wants his whispers of love and those sweet kisses on her brow. She'd even hoped to dig into that giant slice of banana cake Chef Lucas had stashed away for her in the mini fridge of her office.

Instead, when her back had pressed against the door of the bedroom as it shut behind her, Robin had been waiting for her, shirtless and in his boxers, standing by the bed and holding her vibrator with the most devious of smiles.

"Good evening, Madam President," he'd greeted her, and given her no chance to reply before his lips were on hers, tongue almost immediately seeking out her own when she'd moaned in response. He'd kissed her harder, his free hand venturing to her rear and down low enough to hike her leg over his waist, his other arm looped around her, the vibrator digging between the door and the small of her back.

Her clothes hadn't remained on for long.

"Missed you," he growls into her ear now, making his way with kisses down her jaw, the side of her neck, her chest, her shoulder, but she's curious, so she asks.

"What are you— mmm," she moans as he pulls down the red lace of her bra and sucks at her nipple. "What are you planning to do with that toy?" she finally says, her voice breathier than she'd meant it to be.

"Well," Robin starts, and she almost doesn't hear his reply, lost as she is in the sensations, but he murmurs, "I plan to play, my love," and he's using that _voice_ , that sex-charged voice that does things to her.

His teeth tease her nipple now, pull on it gently before his tongue flicks at it, and Regina lets out a sound that's half-chuckle, half-whine as her hands thread in his hair and keep his head right where it is, her tone almost demanding as she tells him, "Suck."

He does, closes his lips around her nipple and sucks hard at her, making her moan loudly before she tugs him back up and kisses him, the exchange wet and sloppy as they move back to the bed. The vibrator is still in his hand, and he lets it fall on the sheets as he joins her, one hand grasping at her thigh and dipping fingers between her legs, toying with the scrap of lace that covers her.

"Ohhh," she moans when he teases one finger inside her, slowly moving it in and out. "That feels good."

And it does, it's not sharp or fast enough to make her come, but it relaxes her, makes her melt into the mattress as she lets his hand expertly touch and caress her, a second finger joining the first for a few more tantalizing passes inside her, building up a rhythm that slowly stokes the fire he's ignited with his kisses and his voice.

Suddenly, she can hear the quiet buzzing of the vibrator, and opens her eyes to find it in his hand, idling there while he bites the fabric of her underwear around her hips and tugs.

Except she's lying flat on the bed, and when he tries to remove her panties like that, he gets nowhere, hovers a little instead as he continues his attempts, fighting so hard to not ruin the mood. Regina can't help it, though, she laughs. Giggles, really. And then shakes her head when he lets go of her underwear and bites into his own sheepish smile.

"You're ridiculous," she tells him, and then lifts her hips just as he lets go of the vibrator for a moment, both hands working to rid her of the deep red lace that hides the wetness between her legs.

"God, you're gorgeous," he rasps when the offending garment is off and thrown somewhere on the floor, his eyes focused hungrily on her sex. Regina moans, because it turns her on to know how desperate he gets just by looking at her.

He's got the vibrator in his hand again, the tip of it no longer humming against her thigh. He moves it over her navel, down, down, down and just to the left of where she needs it. The vibration level is low, and the setting is not exactly her favorite, so the pleasure is not overwhelming, it's just nice, just enough for Regina's breath to quicken and her hips to circle in search for more.

"Goddamn perfect," she hears him say, a gruff sort of whisper that she's not sure she was meant to hear. Robin is licking his lips now, watching as her back arches up off the bed when he ups the speed of the vibrations and finally lets the toy touch her clit.

"God, yes," she gasps, still rolling her hips into the device, loving every second, delighting in the currents of sexual bliss now coursing through her.

"Yes, that's it," Robin tells her. "You're so bloody gorgeous, Regina, love watching you writhe like this. Tell me what you want. Say it."

"I want— mmm, fuck, that feels so go—" she cuts herself off on a loud gasp when he presses the vibrator more firmly into her clit, a little whimper breaking out of her when the setting changes to the one she loves, the one that drives her crazy. He knows her so well, knows her body so well, and he enjoys it, too, loves watching her, hearing her.

So she gives him a show.

"God, yes, just like that," she tells him, undulating her hips in time with the vibration pattern as he circles the tip over her clit. "Feels so good, I— mmmh! Want you so much."

"Want you, too, been thinking about this all day," he tells her, pressing those vibrations more firmly against her, and it's more acute now, with purpose, and she's getting so wet from it, the need to come is brewing, intensifying as he circles the tip around her clit once more, licking his lips as he watches her and whispers, "Fucking beautiful."

Her hand moves to her breasts then, still somewhat imprisoned by the haphazardly moved cups of her bra. She teases her nipples, first the right and then the left, and back again, and Robin is watching her as he rotates that vibrator over her clit some more.

"Guh—ahhh!" she pants, her back arching off the bed momentarily, and as she sinks back down, the vibrations stop, and she's about to whine her displeasure when she feels his fingers pushing into her. Two of them, slow and easy, pressing in and curving just right as he finds that spot inside her that unravels her.

"Yes! Right there," she tells him. Needlessly, of course, because he knows just by looking at her that he's found it, and hits it on every pass as he lies alongside her and brings his mouth to her left breast, sucking at her nipple hard enough to make her shout incoherently. His fingers keep working inside her, and it occurs to her that he was probably just testing to see if she was wet enough for more (and she is, god, she is), but then remained instead of doing whatever it was he was planning.

"Robin," she rasps, breathing fast as she rocks into his hand.

"Hmm?" he asks, just before he gives her one of those hard sucks again. Regina moans, then half-chuckles at the smug look on his face when her eyes find his.

"Fuck me," she tells him, and she can see just how much it affects him. She can feel the way his fingers falter in their steady in-and-out, his eyes growing darker and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he moves over her and bites her right nipple. She lets out a surprised little whimper, but circles her hips down on his fingers a little harder as she whines, "Please, Robin."

"I will, my love," he promises, "I'm going to fuck you until you scream for me, but first, I want more of this. I want to watch you."

His fingers leave her, and then he's moving to kneel between her legs.

The vibrations are back in seconds, this time teasing her entrance as Robin eases the tip of the vibrator into her. The pleasure is sharp, and strong, and incredible, setting her on fire from her very core all the way to her fingertips as she bucks her hips and demands more. Robin smiles, leans forward and lands a sucking kiss on her clit as he pushes the silicone shaft further in. She can feel it move, feel every inch as it fills her, and _Fuck!_ she screams, because it's amazing, and she doesn't want it to stop.

Robin slowly starts to pull the vibe out, until the tip is just inside and then out, spreading the wetness of her all around her sex before he leans in and licks at her clit as the vibrator pushes inside once more.

It's a slow rhythm at first, but the vibrations make up for it, have pleasure bursting through her as he wields the toy and fucks her with it. In and out and in again, circling a little while it's inside her and driving her crazy with need. That coil of raw desire winds tighter and tighter the more he moves it, the more he tells her how sexy she is, how wet, how hot.

She lets out, a pathetic, whiny sort of _Gaah_ , and it makes Robin look up at her, makes him lick his lips as he tells her how fucking stunning she looks right now, and she moans when he answers her breathy, _Want you inside me_ with an animalistic growl.

"I want you to come like this," he tells her, but she can see that his free hand is now down and under the soft cotton of his boxers, stroking himself as he watches her writhe for him.

"No, I want— _oh, fuck, yes!_ " Regina has no idea what it was she'd been about to say, because as soon as she starts talking, Robin moves down to suck at her clit hard as he eases the vibrator in again, and it's too much, it feels too good. She needs to come. Now.

"Robin, please," she begs again.

"Please what, my love?" he asks her, and she'd buy that calm demeanor if it wasn't for how gruff his voice sounds. He wants her. Badly.

"Make me come," she all but orders, and then he's back to those teasing pulses of the vibrator against her clit for a moment before he gets rid of it entirely and moves back to lie beside her, his hand traveling over her breasts, kneading and squeezing and then giving her pert nipples a little twist as he goes. Down, down, down his hand moves, tickling over her belly button with its feather-light touch, and then his fingers —three of them this time— find home inside her, curving and chasing her G-spot as he starts a fast, hard rhythm that makes her cry out in ecstasy.

"Right there?" he asks, and of course it's rhetorical, because it's very obvious that yes, definitely, right there. He moves faster, firmer, until sloppy little sounds join her almost embarrassing display of moans and she's coming hard and wet on his hand.

She hasn't even finished riding out that orgasm when he's moving his fingers out of her and scooting back down, taking a teasing little suck at her clit before he brings the vibrator back to it. He ups the speed and just keeps it there, pressed in her most sensitive spot as her bliss extends and builds and explodes all over again with a shout of "Oh _fuck_ , Robin, yesss, don't stop!"

"Fucking love watching you come," he tells her, moving in close and whispering, "Can't wait to feel you all wet and tight around me."

He kisses her then. Hard. His tongue seeking out hers and battling wildly before his lips close around her bottom one and suck. Regina moans, kisses him back, and then bites at his upper lip before she lets the tip of her tongue lick at it the way he likes, the way that drives him wild.

"Fuck, I want you," he husks at that, then kisses her again, but only for a moment, because next thing she knows he's withdrawing, cool air hitting her heated skin as he leaves her for the few seconds it takes him to get rid of his boxers.

Robin climbs back up on the bed then, and takes her hand to lift her, until she's sitting up and he's unclasping her bra, removing it completely.

Finally, she's naked and ready, her hair a riot as she keeps seeking him out with her mouth and her hands, asking him to please just fuck her already.

"Patience is a virtue," he chides playfully, ghosting his fingers over her clit just enough to make her huff in frustration.

"Not right now, it isn't," she fires back, but her voice is no more than a low, wanton moan as she speaks, her need betraying her as she rocks her hips and tries to press more firmly into his hand when he gives her clit another cursory rub from where he kneels right next to her.

He laughs at her remark, a breathy chuckle that somehow makes her want him more, and thank god he's close enough for her to reach, because now two can play the same game.

Her hand grasps his cock and tugs firmly, his sharp intake of breath the soundtrack to her success as Regina licks her lips and tells him, "Lie down, Robin."

She can see the battle raging in his eyes, torn as he is between surrendering to her and keeping control of this little game.

He chooses control.

Instead of heeding her command, he hovers over her and moves a hand down between them, rubbing at her clit again and making all coherent thought flee her mind as she rocks into his touch.

"Mmmh," is all she says, licking her lips, now dry from her gasping, and moving her own hand back to her breast to toy with her nipple.

Robin groans at the sight of her, and then he's leaning in close, his lips soft as a flower petal by her ear as he tells her, "I want to make you come again."

 _Oh, god,_ she whimpers, her hips moving faster, seeking out a firmer rub from his thumb as he presses it over her clit and tells her, "I want you to come all over my cock as I fuck you."

She moans again, because what else _can_ she do when he says things like that? He's letting one finger back into her, lazy and measured, just to get her going, just to rile her up, and it's _working_ , has her instantly wanting more, and it's all she can do to cry out a breathy, "God, please, Robin, do it now," that makes him smile devilishly from where he leans over her.

His head moves to her breasts, teeth nibbling gently on her nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

A high-pitched _Mnyaaah_ escapes her when the wet heat of his mouth envelops the stiff peak, and she's so sensitive right now, so needy, that her hand grabs at his wrist, urging his now still hand to move again.

"So eager," he teases into her breast, the tip of his nose caressing her skin as he moves to her other nipple and treats it to the same attentions.

"Your fault," she accuses in reply, and he chuckles a little as his hand moves out of her, his lips moving up her chest and into her neck to bestow more hot kisses right where she likes them. Regina squirms, seeking his hand again, wanting those steady pulses of his fingers back inside her.

"Patience, my love," he whispers into her skin, and then sucks at that spot between neck and shoulder that ignites her further, teasing the tip of his tongue over her wetly, until she's arching into him and his fingers press back in at last in a steady, slow pace.

"Want you," she gasps, and he tells her he wants her, too. Needs to feel her.

"So take me," she offers, shallow breaths coloring her words as she lies back down and sprawls on the bed, arching her back and pushing her breasts out a little, knowing he'll appreciate the view.

"God, you're stunning," he moans, and she bites her lip, pleased with just how much he _wants_ her right now.

The vibrator lies forgotten somewhere by the corner of the mattress, and when he grabs her legs and drags her to the edge of the bed, she feels the silicone rub against her thigh. Robin's eyes drift to it, and then she sees the flash of purple as he lifts it, showing it to her with an amused smile on his face.

"I'm not done with this yet, Madam President," he tells her, but his free hand is lazily pumping his cock as he watches her, his eyes almost rolling back at the stimulation.

"By all means, Agent Locksley," she claps back, opening her legs and smiling fondly when he settles between them, his hand leaving his cock to travel up her thigh instead.

It always strikes her, how he always has this need to touch her despite all the time they've been together. How he still reveres every inch of her body, like it's going to fade from his grasp if he doesn't bestow it proper attention. And that touch, that simple caress of his hand over her leg, adds a tenderness to the moment she hadn't been expecting, not with how needy and fast this little encounter is going.

It's there, though, that love he feels for her, has always felt for her, a love that she returns wholeheartedly and without fear.

She moves her hand down to his, runs the pad of her finger over his wedding band for a moment, breathing deeply and giving herself time to appreciate just how happy he makes her.

"Robin," she says at last, still smiling softly at him. "Make me come on your cock."

He bites into a grin at that, leans over her and then licks that spot on her neck again, kisses and sucks his way down to her breasts as her legs wrap and lock around him, keeping him pressed right against her, the tip of his cock teasing her clit.

He straightens then, pumping his hardness more firmly as he looks and looks at her, licking his lower lip as his gaze moves over her naked form.

And then finally, _finally_ , he positions himself just right, and she feels the tip of him pushing into her slowly, just to give her a taste before he withdraws.

She grunts her displeasure, moves just a little bit further down, until half her ass is hovering over the edge of the bed as he pushes back in, all the way to the hilt this time.

"God, yes!" she shouts, enjoying the way he stretches her to perfection, her hips jerking to meet him when he pulls back and thrusts back in a little harder.

For a moment he stays there, his hips unmoving, his cock buried in her as she rolls her hips slowly, just to feel him, just to bask in having him filling her. He groans her name, and she whimpers his in turn, gasping at just how good it feels to have him like this. This was such a good idea.

The buzzing of the vibrator joins her little pornographic display, and suddenly she feels the rhythmic pulses on her clit as Robin draws back and rams back in.

"Hold it," he tells her, sounding a little breathless. Regina grasps blindly for the smooth silicone, her eyes intent on the darkened blue of his. She finds the toy easily enough, fiddles with the buttons a bit to get the setting that makes her come faster (he won't wait for long, she can see the tension in his neck, hear the hitch in his breath from the effort it takes him to hold off), and then she moans loudly when the new, faster vibrations hit her clit just right.

"Fuck, yes, you look so beautiful like that," she hears Robin say, and her eyes are closed right now as she surrenders to the unbelievable sensation, but she can tell by the raspy quality of his voice that he's enjoying this immensely.

"Robin, you feel... _aahh_!" It's amazing, it feels amazing, having him move in and out of her while she lets the vibrator do its magic on her clit. She's so wet, and he feels so good, she doesn't want it to end.

There's sweat on her temples, and she can feel her hair sticking to her brow in a matted riot as she thrashes and sighs at the pleasure. She looks a mess right now, she's sure of it, but Robin is grunting, gasping, telling her how _fucking gorgeous_ she is, how he loves everything about her, how she never looks more stunning than when she's wet and needy like this...

"Fuck, yes, right there!" she tells him when he shifts his weight slightly and grabs her thighs to pull her closer, the slight change in angle making him hit that spot inside her just right. Her legs are no longer wrapped around him, but held spread wide by his hands as he bucks into her faster and faster, his breaths shallow and quick, exhaling on every thrust.

"So tight, so wet— _Mmmh_ , love, you're perfect. Fucking perfect, I'm— yes, hold it right there on your clit, don't let go," he rambles, adding, "God I wish you could see how incredible you look right now."

Robin leans over her, pressing his torso to hers as he kisses her sloppily, his tongue wet and warm and fast against hers, battling for dominance before he sucks the tip of hers into his mouth, then bites on her lower lip and pulls.

"Tell me how it feels," Regina orders when he lets go, licking the spot where his teeth have just nibbled.

"Incredible," he answers. "You're so wet and tight and— oh, fuck, I can feel it," he lets out on a particularly hard thrust, when he's in deep enough to get a thrill from the vibrations as Regina presses the toy to her clit. "So fucking good."

She's gasping and thrashing, crying out an endless stream of _Yesyesyesyesss_ as the pleasure builds and builds with every thrust he gives her.

"Are you gonna come? Fuck, tell me you're gonna come," he urges, the pace of his hips going a little erratic, a little off centre. It hits the spot just right, has her all but mewling at him as she undulates her lower body, circling onto his cock as the vibrator continues buzzing away at her clit.

"I'm so close," she rasps, "so clos— mmmh, Robin!"

"You feel that?" he grunts, "Feel how hard I am for you?" His voice is shaking with the effort it takes him to hold back, but he needn't try for too long, she's almost there.

"Yes, I— you— mmm, god, yes, don't stop," she settles on, her breathing going faster, her pulse rushing. She can hear the _thump-thump-thump_ of her own heartbeat, feel his cock slide in deep, hitting that spot inside her again and again.

"I'm gonna come," she tells him. "You feel so good, I'm— YES!"

Orgasm washes over her in delicious waves of sensation, igniting her very skin as the vibrator prolongs the pleasure while Robin thrusts in hard and deep and stays there, filling her and groaning loudly as he feels her coming.

"God, you're perfect," he tells her, "fucking exquisite."

The vibrator has fallen from her hand, which now lays limp at her side as she takes deep breaths, and all the while, Robin moves in and out of her at a snail's pace, watching her every reaction.

Instead of winding down from her bliss, though, it sets off this raw need in her to just... claim him. So she does, arches her back and rises just enough to grab at him and bring him back down, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as she kisses him, deep and fast and wet, tongues battling and tasting, her teeth biting hard into his bottom lip.

The action makes him speed up his thrusts, and Regina parts their mouths for a moment and tells him, "Come inside me, Robin," before she dives back in and swallows the moan he gives her in reply. He picks up the pace, fucking into her faster and deeper as Regina wraps her legs tightly around his waist and keeps him there, until he's spasming and coming, groaning loudly and sucking at her upper lip.

They stay like that for a moment, him buried inside her, both sharing kisses that go from hurried and hot to lazy and deep, all gentle nibbles and soothing licks as their hands wander and caress naked skin.

His hand is at her breast, squeezing gently, just because he can, and she lets out a long exhale, then feels him pull out of her collapse on his side right next to her, the tip of his nose tickling her neck.

"How was your day?" he asks as he lifts his head, the words muffled by her hair as he kisses it.

"Better now," she admits with a smile, her breathing deepening as they relax into each other. "Yours?"

"Mmm... lonely," he tells her as he lies back down and cuddles into her. "I missed having you around today."

She can feel his lashes fluttering against her neck, the tip of his nose skimming up and down. This is what she wanted when she got home today, but the pleasant ache between her legs is definitely a welcome addition.

"I missed you, too," she tells him, staring up at the ceiling and smiling when his lips pucker over her jaw to land a kiss there.

And then, then he says the magic words, and everything slides seamlessly into place.

"Would you like some banana cake?"

Her sigh makes him laugh as he rises from the bed, and she follows his movements with her gaze and asks, "How did you know?"

Robin only smiles at her, then leans perpendicularly over her on the bed and lands a kiss on her cheek.

"You always want dessert when you come home from a trip," he shrugs. And he's right, of course.

"You do love me," she jokes, making her voice overly sweet.

"Eh, you're alright, I suppose," he quips, and Regina tries to swat him with her hand, but he's too fast and moves out of the way. Her palm does catch his wrist though, so she grabs it, pulls him over and on top of her for a warm, deep kiss.

Robin moans his surprise, but returns the kiss fervently, one hand tangling in her chaotic waves and keeping her close even after they part.

"I'll take that banana cake now," she announces, and he laughs into the space between them.

"So demanding," he taunts her.

"I am the President," she teases back. Robin just grins at her, shaking his head and giving her a kiss, then another, and another, his mouth separating from hers on a wet smack.

"One banana cake with cream cheese frosting coming right up, Madam President," he plays along, kissing her one last time before he heads out of the bedroom and into the suite.

And as Regina watches his naked form walk out the door, she decides that despite it not being what she wanted when she first arrived, tonight is still the best homecoming she could ever hope for.


	36. Calm

**_For OQ Prompt Party Week - Day 2._**

 ** _Prompt 120: Cuddling during a flight._**

* * *

Regina never gets to have quiet moments anymore.

Before she became president, she and Robin knew how to skate around their duties, how to keep their work schedules and still find time to just hold each other close and ground themselves in the action. She remembers one particular time, back when she was governor of Maine, where Robin had found a way to sneak into her bedroom in the middle of the day. She'd been sick back then, dealing with a bout of food poisoning that had made nausea churn horribly in her stomach. She'd been put on bed rest by her doctor, and she'd begrudgingly agreed, falling asleep in the soft covers, only to find Robin there when the early afternoon sun had let its rays bleed in through the window, warming her face enough to wake her.

"Look who's finally woken up," he'd teased, but kept her on the bed, drawing her close and peppering kisses on her brow until she'd fallen back asleep with her head on his chest, his hand slowly drawing patterns over her arm.

She misses those days. She wants that leisure back.

Instead, she's aboard Air Force One, flying off to Thailand for a special visit. Robin is off in one of the other areas of the giant plane, addressing the staff, surely, and giving them final orders, as they should be landing in the next hour.

To her surprise, carpet-muffled steps enter the otherwise lonely cabin, and his voice is tired but lovely as he greets her, "Figured I'd find you here."

"Where else would I be?" she tells him without tearing her eyes away from the window. This is her favorite part of the plane. The conference room. It's cold, but not too cold; there's an espresso machine and a freezer full of ice cream, and it's peaceful, the rumble of the engines barely audible, the windows giving way to wide, open air without the rotors or the wings of the plane interrupting the blue-and-clouds landscape.

She loves this place.

"Well, I figured maybe in our bed, naked and ready," she hears Robin tease in reply. Regina chuckles, then tears her eyes away from the view out the window to feast on the view of him as he sits beside her.

"I just... needed some quiet," she tells him honestly, giving him a relaxed smile.

"Would you like me to leave you alone?" he asks politely, and she loves him, loves him so much for understanding that sometimes she just needs a bit of time to herself, but right now, all she wants is to feel his warmth enveloping her in the slight chill of the room.

"No, please stay," she answers. Robin leans in then, gives her a quick kiss, and then taps her thigh gently as he tells her, _Come here_.

They shift and move around until he's sitting in the window seat, his back pressed to the wall of the plane as Regina lies between his parted legs, one of which is dangling from the seat, foot flat on the floor, while the other stretches out between her side and the cushy backrests of the three empty seats they're now occupying.

His chest heaves and sighs as he relaxes, pressing against her back on every deep inhale. His lips trail kisses on her hair, his arms wrapped around her with his hands clasped just over her belly button. Regina turns her head to the side, so that his next kiss lands on her brow instead of her hair, and the one after that he places on her lips, a slow, soft exchange that warms her from the inside out.

"You're beautiful," he says as they part, one of his hands coming up to stroke his thumb over her cheek. She smiles, leans in for another kiss, and settles back in her previous position, this time with his chin digging into her shoulder as he places his head right next to hers and they both look at their joint hands over her upper stomach.

"I've missed this," she confesses, her fingers playing with his, twirling his wedding band, a subconscious habit she's developed during the seven months they've been married.

"I've missed you, too," Robin agrees, kissing her cheek. Regina closes her eyes then, lets go of his fingers and basks in the sweet passes of his thumb over her wrist, his tender kisses on her neck, his warm sighs and the devoted whispers of "Love you," that he presses into her shoulder...

"Love you," she replies, threading their fingers together and scooting down just a little, so that her forehead now rests right by his lips (and never one to miss an opportunity, Robin kisses her there instantly). His arm is still around her waist, elbow pressed into the backrest, hand splayed over her thigh.

His other hand is now in her hair, massaging at her scalp, and Regina could just about purr.

"Mmm, that feels good," she tells him, her eyes closing as she tilts her head back and lets him knead and caress her sore body, working out the kinks on her upper back and sliding smoothly down her arm.

Slowly, she settles into the comforting hold of his arms around her, and breathes in deep as she surrenders to her exhaustion, falling asleep almost instantly.

When he wakes her, it's with soft kisses on her brow, and a low whisper letting her know that they will land soon. But when they finally touch down on their destination, Regina doesn't move, merely settles in more comfortably, and lets everyone else deplane while she takes a short nap with her husband, his strong arms wrapped securely around her, his steady breathing a lullaby in her ear.

Because these quiet moments, well, they are everything.


	37. Irresistible

**_For OQ Prompt Party - Day 6_**

 ** _Prompt 162: Regina's hair is curly and Robin likes._**

* * *

Her mother always said her hair was a nightmare.

Regina remembers the pain of Cora's comb as its teeth bit and forced apart the knots in her curls. She remembers despising her hair because of it, remembers adding it to the long list of things Mother had made her hate about herself.

From a very young age, she'd learned to untangle and straighten it herself, style it to please Cora, to fit her mold of what a proper young lady should look like, until it became part of her routine. So embedded in her mind that she couldn't even fathom leaving her room until her thick ringlets had been turned into a sleek sheet of dark tresses.

Daniel had always told her he loved all of her, that her curls were beautiful and she shouldn't disguise them to placate her mother, and Regina had listened for the most part.

Robin has insisted, too, has told her over and over again how much he likes her natural hair, and she knows he's not lying, enjoys how he falls asleep playing with it on the nights she's too exhausted to blow-dry it before bed. But it's hard to shake Cora's judgment when it's so ingrained in Regina's head and soul, even so long after the woman's death. And while she feels confident enough to let her hair flow in its natural state in the privacy of their residence, she has never stepped out in public like that.

Until today, it seems, when the weather appears adamant on revealing her dark secret to the world.

It's the White House Easter Egg Roll, the last one of her administration. She's in a sand-colored dress, with one of those asymmetrical necklines Ruby has been favoring in the presidential wardrobe lately, a thin gold belt at her middle. She'd been wearing heels, and her hair had been styled in the short, flipped-at-the-ends kind of waves Regina tends to favor, to better frame her face and the single drop pearl earrings she'd added to the ensemble. A nude lip, some neutral eyeshadows and a coat of mascara and she'd been good to go. Simple, elegant.

But it's raining now, an unforecast drizzle that had turned into a full blown shower only minutes later. And she looks, well... the dress is no longer "sand", for starters, but rather a speckled muddy grey, the water darkening the fabric as it hits it. Her heels are off and thrown carelessly somewhere, her makeup wet and little smudgy, testing that waterproof mascara... but it's her hair that bothers her.

The falling drops have made her carefully styled waves crisp and curve, and as she asks Ruby to bring in the hairdresser for an emergency appointment, Regina has to fight the urge to dismiss herself as messy... unkempt... tries to ignore the fact that as she thinks of the words, it's Cora's voice that utters them in her head.

But there are thousands of people here, thousands who have run under the giant tent that's been set up to continue the celebrations, thousands who are looking at her as the rain reveals her true nature to them all. She feels exposed, gawked at (and she knows, she knows they're not gawking, that they're not all judging her appearance. They're just looking at her because she's the President, their hostess, nothing more), and doesn't know how to move on until she feels her the warmth of Robin's hand on the small of her back.

"Come with me," he whispers in her ear, guiding her to a secluded corner, just behind the tall pine shrubs that have been encased in the vastness of the tent. Next thing she knows, he's pressing her against one of the tubes that hold the tent up, his lips getting lost on her neck for uninterrupted, heated seconds before he seeks out her mouth.

Regina moans into the kiss, gasps his name when he grabs her thigh and holds it by his waist, her other leg faltering a bit as she opens so he can settle between them, pressing closer. She's moaning as he kisses her, returns every delicious swipe of his tongue, sucks hard at his lower lip and pulls at it with her teeth, delighting in his answering groan as his hand moves up to her hair, tangling in the wet tresses.

"I love your hair like this," he tells her, tugging a little to make his point, and then he's kissing her again, wild and frenzied, the hand he has on her thigh moving to her ass and giving her a firm little squeeze that makes her whimper in his hold.

"I don't," she confesses, when they part and her leg falls back down, foot landing softly on the grass. Her admission is nothing he doesn't already know. They've been together long enough for Regina to pour her heart out to him time and again, including these ugly little parts of her mother that she wishes hadn't remained embedded in her soul.

"Your mother does not get to dictate how you feel about yourself, Regina, especially not from beyond the grave," he says firmly, the same words he's always told her when they discuss Cora's grip on her psyche.

"I know," she admits, shame coloring her tone, "I... sometimes I can't help it. And all those people seeing me like this, I just felt... inadequate."

"I understand," he comforts, "but you are beautiful, and I love your hair. I love all of you, in every way."

"I love you, too," Regina tells him, tears shining in her eyes as she leans in for a soft smooch. "I just didn't want them to think I was messy. Or that I don't take my job seriously."

"My darling, it's just a bit of rain, not a nuclear threat," he says, chuckling a bit at his own joke, and Regina glares at him, but doesn't pull away.

Robin sighs, the hand on her ass moving to her waist while the other settles on her face, cradling her cheek and rubbing the pad of his thumb over her temple.

"It's only hair, my love, nothing else," he asserts, his voice dropping when he adds, "And I happen to find you quite sexy right now."

"You always find me sexy," Regina retorts with mock-annoyance, pressing her hips into his growing erection.

"Yes, well, you're even sexier with your hair like this," he counters, smirking as he leans in, hand moving from her cheek to her hair again, tangling and playing with the wet curls. Regina lets out a little _Mmm_ into the kiss he gives her, then another when he veers away from her mouth and sucks at her pulse point the way she likes.

"Robin, we can't do this here," she chides her husband, and it's a breathy, gaspy thing, not at all the firm tone she'd been going for, but it stops him anyway, has him chuckling into her neck and pulling back to look at her.

"Fine, let's go to our room," he states matter-of-factly, like they can just bail on their guests to go for a quickie in the residence.

"Later," Regina promises, because already she's feeling that wetness between her legs, and she'll surely have to remedy that tonight, but... "Right now I have Easter eggs to find."

When they emerge from their little bubble, everyone is chatting with David, who gives them a knowing smile and a pointed glance, as if to say _You owe me one_.

And just the smug glint in her VP's eye is enough to have Regina turning, giving her husband a seductive look as she tells him, "You know what? I changed my mind."

If David wants the credit for covering for them, fine, she'll let him earn it.

As self conscious as she was before, she's confident now as she grabs her husband's hand and walks on. She excuses herself with her detail and guests, citing some phone conference she hadn't been able to reschedule and must take care of before she continues the festivities; tells her son to save her some of the chocolate eggs with toffee filling, and sets off.

They don't go to the bedroom, much to her surprise, but rather Robin guides her to his office, his wicked smile growing as he looks back and wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Regina shakes her head in amused exasperation, rolls her eyes playfully as she lets him weave them through the less crowded hallways towards their destination.

It's her ass that shuts the door behind her when Robin pins her to the solid wood, his lips attacking her instantly, hands roaming her body and grabbing haphazardly at the hem of her dress.

She has no time to react, has barely let out a choked whisper of _Rob—oh_ when he's on his knees between her parted legs, fingers rubbing at her clit over her the smooth texture of her underwear. It's... well it's amazing, yes, feels amazing, but she's startled by the action, had expected a little more foreplay, if she's honest.

"Take it off," she rasps, and hears him laugh from his place at her feet.

"Take what off, my darling?" he asks, and Regina just gasps a squeaky _Everything_ as her hand threads into his hair and pulls.

Robin grunts at the sensation, just as she'd known he would, and then he's obeying her command, shoving the nude silk of her panties down her legs.

Her dress is still on, though, and it's well-fitted, too tight to pull over her head, especially with the belt. Robin seems to realize that as soon as she does, because they both groan in frustration as he rises, his hands already working at the knot of his light blue tie, until it's off and thrown far away from them both.

He pauses for a moment then, tangles his hand in her curls again and brings her in for a kiss that is soft and slow, a moment of calm before their frenzied need takes over.

"Stunning," he tells her when they part, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair as he smiles. Regina's heart feels like it'll explode, flooding with the rush of her feelings for this wonderful man, this wonderful second chance life has given her, and she pulls him in and kisses him fervently, spiking up the sweet-and-spicy cocktail of their arousal.

They both work at removing that thin belt of hers, but it's too many hands on a too tiny buckle, so Regina takes over, and then moans loudly when Robin shifts his hands to her breasts, squeezing over the fabric, thumb finding and rubbing at her nipples, the lace of her bra creating just enough friction to drive her wild.

The belt is off in seconds, and then he's grabbing her by the waist and turning her, pressing her front against the office door while his hand moves to travel down her back and over the curve of her rear, kneading there for a bit.

"God, Robin please just take it off," she begs, and breathes a sigh of relief when her husband finally starts to bring the zipper down. It stops on the small of her back, and Regina straightens for a moment, lets the fabric fall and pool at her feet, delighting in Robin's muffled groan as her ass is left on display.

Her bra is still on, but he removes it in seconds, unclasping it and clumsily throwing it somewhere on his desk. When Regina tries to turn back around to face him, he presses her there, wordlessly asking her not to move just yet, and fuck, yes, this is great, this is just what she needs.

He presses into her from behind, moves his hands around to her front and plays with her breasts for a moment while he kisses her neck, murmurs naughty things like _Want to fuck you just like this, love_ into her skin.

He leaves her then, sinks to his knees behind her and moves her ass further out towards his face, burying his tongue inside her the second she opens her legs to him.

There's a sound, a half-yell, half-whimper kind of thing that takes Regina a moment to realize came from _her_ , and then it happens again, and again, because Robin is fucking her with his tongue in fast little dips that are quickly driving her to the brink.

One finger joins him, his tongue teasing around her folds for a moment before she feels the delicious pressure as he enters her, twisting his hand this way and that, searching until—

"Oh, fuck, yes, right there!" she half-screams, pushing her rear out a little further so she can rock into that finger. The circling of her hips is awkward due to their current position, but he gets the hint, and hits that spot again... and again, and it's so good, so fucking good, she's... he's just... god, she wants him.

"Robin," she gasps, and his answering _Hmm_ from his perch between her legs sends little vibrations through her sensitive clit right before he sucks it into his mouth.

She's clawing at the door, trying to find something to hold on to as he fucks her with fingers and tongue, slurpy little sounds echoing in the quiet of his office.

It's hot in here, they hadn't even bothered turning on the AC when they came in, and she can feel a drop of sweat traveling down the center of her back. It does terrible things to her already messed up hair, of course, and the idea that she's looking so disastrous at the moment blocks her arousal for a few seconds.

It's enough to have Robin pausing, his lips dropping a quick kiss on her left cheek before he rises, moving to whisper _You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen_ into her shoulder.

And then he adds _And you're all mine_ as his hand ventures over her ass and down between her legs, those talented fingers of his making their way inside her again, and thought leaves her altogether.

"Mmmh, yes!" she shouts into the door. She should probably keep it down, there are agents patrolling the halls. But how can she be quiet when he's— _Oh, god!_ Curving his fingers just right and— mmm, fucking her harder with them, building up that need, that fire.

"You're incredible right now," he murmurs into her ear, and then he sinks his head into the crook of her neck and presses his tongue there, with warm, wet passes that make her squirm.

"Need you," she gasps, pressing her arm into the door and muffling her next loud moan with it. His fingers pick up speed, and she can't help it, she grinds into them, circles her hips and pushes her ass back against him, wanting him deeper.

Robin growls at her plea, and then his hands leave her, and she hears the metallic clink of his belt buckle as he undoes it, hears the faint rustling of his trousers as they hit the floor, and the scrape of that buckle against the dark, cherry wood floor. He's breathing fast, gasping almost, as he moves back to his previous position, and this time she can feel his hard cock, the tip bobbing against her left cheek as Robin leans in close and tells her, "Spread your legs for me, love."

"Oh, god," she rasps, and does as she's told, pushing her lower body away from the door and back against him. She hears him groan behind her, feels the reverent touch of his hand as it roams over her ass and then sinks back between her legs, giving her a cursory rub just over her clit before his knees hit the floor with a heavy thud.

He buries his face in her sex again, licking at her clit before he sucks it into his mouth. Regina lets out a high-pitched _Aahhh_ as she pushes back into him, seeking more of the delicious feeling. Robin hums against her, sending vibrations that make her jerk and groan.

"So wet," he tells her, and well, of course she is, but this is getting frustrating.

"Robin," she whines, and he has the audacity to tut at her, telling her to be patient.

"I want to enjoy watching you come apart, Regina," he tells her. "And besides, the more I make you sweat, the more those lovely curls come out."

She knows what he's doing, can see it clear as day, and it's sweet, that he's trying to get her to see herself through his eyes, to see how much he loves and appreciates every part of her, but her raw desire is winning out right now, and all he's doing at the moment is tease her clit with the tip of his tongue.

"More," she begs, pushing her ass back into his face. Robin holds her steady, left hand grasping her thigh, the right kneading at her cheek and spreading her just enough to give her more tantalizing flicks of his tongue. And then that tongue dips, and pushes its way inside her, curling and tasting and making her scream into her arm where it presses against the door.

"Good?" he asks, and she can _hear_ the smug smile on his face, but she doesn't care right now. She's nodding frantically, burying her face in the crook of her arm and moaning loudly when he does it again, and again, fucking into her and giving her clit a quick, sucking kiss every time he withdraws.

"Fuck me," she begs, her voice so low she thinks he can't hear her, but the sharp intake of breath she hears behind her tells her that he did, and that her words have had the desired effect.

Robin stands up then, dipping his fingers back inside her for a moment to test her. It's good, has her arousal simmering as he kisses up her back and then over her neck. When he lets go, she feels him, hard and ready between her legs, the tip of his cock teasing at her entrance.

"Robin, please!" she whimpers, and before she's done saying the words, he's sliding into her from behind, his body pressing hers flush against the door.

The loud _Fuck!_ he lets out when he's finally all the way inside her echoes in a moan of her own. He wastes no time, starts thrusting fast and hard where he stands, slamming her against the door again and again. Regina cries out, her head lolling back into his shoulder as he moves one hand to her waist and the other around her front, playing with her breasts and pinching one nipple and then the other as he fucks her.

"Fuck, don't stop, don't stopdon'tst— mmm, Robin, so good," she babbles, tilting her hips the slightest bit on his next thrust, and he's hitting that spot now, frissons of pleasure igniting inside her, heating her very skin as she pushes back against him faster, harder, seeking more of him, all of him.

"You've— " he gasps, punctuating every word with a thrust as he continues, "no— idea— how— fucking— good— you feel. Love you."

"Love you, too," she responds, and then, "Harder."

He does just that, fucks her harder and faster, letting go of her breasts and holding onto her waist with both hands for purchase. Excitement rushes through her as he goes, and then he's pounding into her, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the space around them, joining with her many gasps and moans, and the whispers of _Fuck_ and _So wet_ and _Want you to come on my cock_ that spill from Robin as he moves.

It's that last wish that has her venturing a hand down to her clit, rubbing fast little circles over it. Her hand trembles as she moves, but she manages just the same, and Robin's gruff _Oh, fuck, yes, love, touch yourself like that_ has a pleased little smile forming on her lips.

It doesn't take long, and with a few more quick rubs on the sensitive nub, and the steady, pulsing rhythm of Robin's cock inside her, Regina finally comes, melting into the pleasurable abyss as he holds her up and fucks her faster, chasing her orgasm with his own.

His thrusts slow down to something measured and lazy as he rides those last few moments of bliss, and it feels amazing, the leisurely pace keeping it from becoming _too_ much as she pants and _Mmm_ s the echoes of pleasure still cresting and abating inside her.

When he pulls out of her, she shoots out a hand to stop him from leaving. His questioning grunt has her grinning, turning against the door until the overheated skin of her back hits the smooth surface.

Regina looks at him, fully aware that she must have the dopiest smile on her face at the moment, and that her hair and makeup probably look a mess, but for once, she doesn't hear her mother's voice, or her own chiding comments on her appearance. Instead, she's just... happy.

Using the door for support, she sinks down onto the floor, her knees landing softly as she reaches out and runs a hand over his thigh.

"Come closer," she orders fondly, her voice is a little hoarse, but she knows he enjoys that, so she pays it no mind, merely bites her lower lip into a smile as he does as he's told.

When he's close enough, she gently takes his softening cock in her hand. Robin jerks a little, but says nothing.

Slowly, so slowly, she brings her tongue to him, licking the wetness coating his shaft. She's careful not to go too close to the tip, knowing he'll be sensitive there, but this, this she can do. He tastes of her, and of him, and it's not altogether pleasant, really, but the fact that it's both of them thrills her.

"God," he gasps above her, threading one hand into her hair and scratching her head affectionately. Regina continues to lick, cleaning him up while he watches and plays with her hair. He's giving her little appreciative moans, his breathing deepening. On one particularly slow pass, she moves her tongue just a bit closer to the tip, and grins up at him when his hips jerk reflectively away from her.

"Evil," he tells her, shaking his head with a smile of his own, and Regina merely bites her lip and moves back to the safe territory of his shaft, licking away the evidence of their activities and taking a moment to swallow while looking up at him. Robin's answer is a little growl that stays low in his throat, his hand still buried in her hair. She loves when he does that, that gentle massaging of his fingers over her scalp, that show of love and tenderness even during something as raunchy as her licking come off his cock.

When she finally stands, she kisses him. Robin grimaces a little at the taste, but kisses her back fervently, his tongue playing with hers for a few precious moments before they part.

He's standing there, tie haphazardly undone, his shirt wrinkled and messily unbuttoned, his cock limp and spent now between naked legs. He hadn't had time to finish undressing, it seems, and the sight is... well, adorable, really.

"You look cute," she teases.

"And you look ravishing," he shoots back, which makes her throw a glance at her reflection in the black of the TV screen in the corner.

Her hair is chaos. Gone are the lovely waves that often make the Top 10 Best Hairstyles list in many magazines, decimated by rainwater and sweat. Instead, a mass of messy, matted curls sits atop her head, bouncing slightly when she moves.

Regina makes a frustrated sound, and then Robin is pressing his chest to her back and turning her fully, so that her naked body is visible on the shiny black of the screen, joined by the reflection of his face smiling at her as he sets his chin on her shoulder, his hands caressing down her shoulders and over her arms, then back up over her waist and stomach, pausing their ascent when they reach her breasts.

"You're stunning," he says as he gives the swells a little squeeze, his lips dotting a kiss on her shoulder. "And I love your hair like this."

"You've already said that," she argues, but that lazy smile is still on her face, she can see it in her reflection as she sinks back against him fully, her head landing on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and decorates her neck with more of those tiny, loving kisses.

"And I'll say it again. I can't help it. It's sexy, incredibly so," he says into her skin, opening his eyes to look into hers in their reflections as he finishes with, "It does things to me."

"Yes, you proved that," Regina chuckles.

"Give me a couple more minutes and I'll prove it again," he teases with a grin, adding, "Perhaps with you bent over the desk this time."

"Mmm," she says, her voice low, teasing him, her hands reaching back to touch him, one on his hair, the other on. "You'll bend me over the desk?"

Robin nods as he swallows, looking at her as she arches her back from his chest, seeking a firmer touch of his hand over her breasts as she asks, "What will you do to me?"

"Well..." he starts, giving her left nipple a little pinch. "I'd start right here, playing with your nipples the way you like..."

She gasps when he brings that hand on her breasts up to his lips and sucks his fingers into his mouth, moving them back out and over her to give her right nipple a gentle twist.

"Mmm and then what?" She prods.

"Then I'd touch you here..." his hand moves down her stomach, right to her clit to toy with it, and if she doesn't stop him soon she's going to loose this little game.

"And then?" She finds herself asking anyway.

"Whatever Her Majesty commands," he answers.

She laughs outright at that.

"As much as I would like that," she tells him, turning in his arms as she finishes with, "we actually do have guests to attend to."

He sighs an _I know_ , resigned to the end of their reprieve.

The moment silence settles between then, Robin looks somewhere beyond her and groans. When she raises her eyebrow in question, he tells her, "Now I can see all of _this_ ," he punctuates the word by squeezing her bare ass, "reflected in the screen."

Regina smiles deviously up at him, biting her lower lip as she wriggles her ass from side to side. Robin shakes his head with a laugh, then kisses her fondly on the lips and tells her, "You're amazing."

"Thanks for this," she says in return, "I've been wanting alone time with you for the past few days, but I hadn't realized how much I _needed_ it until now. I'm sorry things have been so hectic."

"You've nothing to apologize for, my love," he assures her, dotting a kiss to the tip of her nose. "And I've missed you, too."

She smiles at that, leans in close and breathes him in for a few quiet moments.

When they return to the party, redressed so impeccably that no one would ever guess what truly happened, Regina's hair is flying free, the cold wind whipping it about her face as she smiles and warmly greets her favorite diplomats.

Ruby, ever diligent, walks up to Regina, and surreptitiously whispers, "Ma'am, I've got the hairdresser standing by in your suite, he's ready to go whenever you are."

And for once, Regina smiles and says, "That's okay, Ruby. Tell him we won't be needing his services today."

The younger woman smiles, gives her a thumbs up and a low whisper of "Atta girl," then heads off to tip and dismiss the man, leaving Regina by herself again.

Robin is suddenly before her, leaning in close and whispering in her ear just how proud he is of her.

"I love you," she answers him, lost in the sparkly, cheerful blue of his eyes.

And then her son walks up to her, and tells her just how _awesome_ it is that their hair matches now, and the last of Cora's critical remarks are squashed away, buried under the mountain of love and acceptance that life has seen fit to give her.


End file.
